The Stone Fossil Fighter
by Starry's Light
Summary: Jkonna had no clue what to do with herself after her best friend began to sulk - and not a regular sulk. Weeks sometimes pass before he smiles again. It's because of that torn, lost sister of his, she's sure- all that he's learned; and now it's in her hands to stop him from spiraling into the darkest slump he'll ever fall into- but what if ancient terrors block her out?
1. Do: The Man Pants didn't Return

**Hello there, reader! :D I'm super pumped right now! Why? Heheh. This story is a sequel to two other stories and I haven't written for them in months and I really really want to so it's awesome. If you have never read one or even both (if you have why you overachiever oOo whyareyoureadingsomuchofmystoriesaaahh) that's fine! Heh, I'll try to hit everything to make it easier to understand what's going on, but if I'm failing and you're confused, feel free to tell me! You can be as harsh as you want if that's how you work. :3 If there are a few things that don't make sense, don't worry, it gets easier as it goes on, eheh.**

 **So anyways! Welcome to the great unveiling of The Stone Fossil Fighter! The biggest character seen in this story is a wacky red-haired girl named Jkonna, but there are other main characters too that are just as important. X3 I trust you enjoy~**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 1: The Man Pants Didn't Return

 _Dino_

Sticky glands of heat and moisture combine to make untidy little cracks and chips all throughout my skin, until I'm full of sap and I smell like turd and I just overall feel all gross. It's sweat. Of course it's sweat. You can never freaking escape sweat, no matter how hard you try—and you know whose fault that is?

Yes.  
That's right.  
It's the _sun._  
Oh how I hate the sun. Filthy ball of yellow light. Stop making me sweat. Now.

Angrily, I toss a shiny scaled black hand into an orange forehead and it goes _schlop._ If I was any less solid, I think my body would start melding together like clay. Because this freaking sun hates me so much that it has to force sweat glands to work on overdrive and then before you know it there's sweat everywhere and you smell like turd and it's all, all of it, is because of the sun. The sun is so so evil.

 _Or, you know,_ a kindly voice implies, _you could always just go swimming or something. Or stop running around when it's sunny outside. But I guess I can't stop someone as stupid as you from doing that._

That is not the voice I was hoping to hear. And no, the sun isn't giving me hallucinations. Droplet the water monster is up to her games again, reminding me of all my mistakes so I'll do better next time only I don't do better next time and she gets to harp on me all over again like a feeble witch who has no soul. Only, I guess if she had no soul, I'd also have no soul, so how about we all shut up and pretend there's a heart deep in that finned body coated in water. No, not sweat: just water. She leaks water everywhere. See, there is a reason this krona is and always will be a water monster. _Dino. Shut up._

 _Yes, yes, but it's true! So why do I have any reason to shut up?  
_

 _You're hurting my feelings._

A blank, slate-colored glare hits the sad grass below us that would be dead was it not for sweat. Well. Maybe not dead. But not all that green. _You have feelings. Wow, I never knew. Why am I only learning this now?_

 _Eeek!_ And then another voice joins in on the fray until now it's two females and I am outnumbered. _Dino, please stop being so disastrously mean! It's scary! What if you and Droplet actually... d-do something stupid and hurt each other and never forgive one another and—EEK! I CAN'T TAKE SUCH A THOUGHT!_ Twin smirks meet the golden-scaled biped's idiot whining.

 _Harei, the day that'll happen is the day you stop caring so much about us._

 _Yes, nicely put, Droplet._ See, I'm nice. Harei, on the other hand, is an emotional clay glob of gold who melts at the sight of both cute things and conflict which isn't actually conflict cuz she's stupid and thinks it is. She also melts at the sight of Lone because Lone is both terrifying and draining at the same time and a secret part of me deep inside of my skull thinks that Lone is actually a lot smarter than us and plans to corrupt the universe with her freakish and utter Loneness.

I hope and pray to the almighty Ancient vivosaurs that's just me.

Harei, with her scaly blue outlines and kind, dark eyes and awkwardly sweet face, happens to be the shiniest ourano I've ever met. Also she can dance. Don't ask me why a gigantic, meaty thing like her can do it, but those hips know how to gyrate. And let's not think about Lone right now. Please.

 _DID I HEAR MY NAME? I HEARD MY NAME. DON'T SAY YOU DI—_

 _NO I DID NOT HEAR YOUR NAME LONE._ Please work please work please work.

 _I DIDN'T EITHER._ Droplet I have never loved your krona soul as much as right—

 _What do you mean, guys? Dino, you said her name twice! Don't be so rude!_

...now. Ow. That's gonna leave a mark. Harei's gentle and sweet tone then sears my heart forever as the galumphing thing that is Lone the nasaur screeches as high as her beaked face can screech.

 _LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE LONE_

You bet it's just her name over and over and over again. What stops her? We really have yet to figure that out.

 _UH, PIPPY? PLEASE STEP ON HER!_

My command doesn't do much, but then Droplet asks the same thing and flashes her pearly white teeth and by some incomprehensible way, this makes the brown giant of a seismo, his adorable purple eyes and underbelly gleaming, utter a response and do something. Actually, like, do something. _Ah. Ah! Why must the two of you always roam for the similar ending such as this? Oh, cheerio, lad and lassie, I don't want to harm Lone! Not even if she's purple, stick-like, and not only has fur but scales, a beak, and webbed toes too! That is harmful and rude and depressing, you sour puddings! Alas, dear friends, how could I stoop so low? Please tell me I don't have to! I don't want to! I would never!_ He sighs and lifts the delicate stick figure that should be Lone and places her upon his gigantic back. Droplet puffs angry air for some reason—which she keeps doing, and I don't get why, every time someone else grabs hold of Pippy's attention who isn't her. What, has she gotten spoiled or something? Holy turd. I never thought the day would come that this blue-and-gray-and-white-flecked and -finned thingy would actually begin to act like a little kid any worse than me. I don't even do that when someone else gets in my best friend's face.

I don't really know how to classify my vivosaurs, but I actually do have a best friend that doesn't sound like a nonstop voice in my head. No, that's a lie, she _sounds_ like a nonstop voice in my head, but she actually isn't some crazy revived vivosaur with scales and the power to beat up other vivosaurs and that whole package. She just has freakishly long red hair and freakishly big hips.

So, well, that's pretty much the entire gang. There's also Iggy, but he's gay and depressing and so I usually try to leave him alone. Smirking stupidly, I trod around more on squishy mud and grass and wonder, if my sweat could only collect and make gigantic puddles, what exactly I would see. My appearance kind of changed. Black spikes of hair, and an orange stripe of it down the middle. Let's see... orange face, orange elbows and knees... Black limbs... I think my stomach is gray like my eyes... and I have those funny gray markings under my cheeks or something. Oh. And the tail. The black and orange tail.

See, I used to think I was a human but I'm actually this cool thing called a dinaurian, which basically means I look like a human, buuuut I get scales and a tail. A freaking tail. I know, right? That has to be the absolute coolest thing ever. Also when I learned I was a dinaurian, all of my human friends were like _oh my gosh he's not an orphan_ because we all thought I had no parents but it turns out my past self was just a shy ditz and tried to forget about my living dad which makes me a prince and therefore—well. Who cares. I am the coolest prince around because I am the only one.

Really, even though I'm a prince and all, it's not like everything is different now or anything. I still run around in the same dig site of Greenhorn Plains and on really hot days I sweat all over the place. I always have my vivosaurs with me because they are my lovely darlings—NOT. So, uh, yeah, practically, ha ha, the same. Yes, that was a sarcastic laugh.

 _Why are you sarcastically laughing at yourself?_

 _Droplet. Shut up. Not a good time._

 _Are you loonely, Din-Diiiiiin?  
_

 _I'M NOT LONELY, OKAY._

 _DON'T WORRY MY LOVE._ And out of nowhere I'm tossed onto soggy grass filled with my sweat because the sun is evil, only now a weight has crushed my lungs. A weight like no other, even though the voice was kind enough to shrink her gigantic body before flinging out of her fossil medal and trying to hug me. Six fins don't know how to hug. Still, a pointy, finned snout gushes air at my face, and now my hair must be even more messed up. Spikes are soggy, man, this is just gross. Droplet's finned underbelly of white squirms from above me and icy blue eyes pierce my soul. _I'm here for you._

 _Yeah, I know._ Trying to act all smug as her sharp voice hits me, my eyebrows raise a little bit, and a fin paws at them in some fumbling effect to make them stop. She results in pulling at scales and nearly chipping my beautiful face, how dare you. _Your oh-so beautiful face is not a piece of art to me, okay. Maybe Rosie thinks it is since she wants to kiss it, but dude, really, no._ Oh yeah, Rosie's not a vivosaur either. She wears lots of pink though. She's be a pinkosaurus rex. I'm just Dino.

 _Droplet..._ When one of our tones hits soft and serious, the other shuts up and pulls out that dusty old mode too. We've... known each other for awhile now. _Can we not think about it? I've gotten... really emotional about life as it is, man.. It doesn't help to keep... uh... man-tearing-up._ So her fins pat at me and we just awkwardly stay like that for awhile, either because she's too proud to admit she doesn't know how to get up or she wants to be here for me. There was once a time where I'd guess the first one.

But these guys mean a lot to me. Yeah. Believe it or not, I'm not the selfish orphan I thought I was.

At some point Droplet slithers off and yips around like a hyperactive Lone of sorts. She wags her fat, finned tail, and I brush myself off as grass sticks around on my back like harmless spikes. Because I'm a dinaurian and they can do these things, I charge forward in my scaled body—missing— _missing, I say—_ my man pants and all of the sort, because I'm just like Droplet practically—and the wind throws my spiky hair in all sorts of places, and my gray eyes glaze over and make me look happy for once in my lifetime, since gray is associated with sadness—which, get it right, isn't true. I'm not sad. Right now.

Footfalls heave from behind me, and I don't dare turn my back or I'll be blinded by the pure cuteness that comes from huge sauropods whose names are Pippy, which is only one single seismo of hot-cocoa coloring and lilac highlights as in the cutest thing to ever exist that isn't a person. Also, his accent only makes it ever the more impossible to not become Pippy's accidental manservant, so if he wasn't so freaking nice we'd all be turd. But he is. Really nice. Way too nice. Him and his tea and crumpet metaphors and pip-pip cheerios: sickeningly kind that it makes me puke happy rainbows. Oh, hey, that's a thought: has Pippy ever even had tea and crumpets? I mean, he's a vivosaur, so eating food messes up his system and he'll puke somewhere exotic—I know this because it's happened before with Droplet—but still. Tea and crumpets. Pippy. A match made in the eye of lovesaurs only.

 _That's not a match made in any sort of love madness,_ grumbles the sass herself. Soft feet plopping against ground and sweat lets me know that Lone and Harei have joined the party too. Lone's probably on Pippy's back by now since she's tiny as it is and shrinking herself only makes her tinier, but then again, everyone can sit on that gigantic brown marshmallow of love at a time, so no big deal as it is.

But Droplet's gone and acted suspicious. _Then what is?_

Like I'm not worthy or something, my cheeks scorch hot, letting me know those finned, white bits of skin on her have done the same, and she's silent. Weird. Something really must be rattling at her bones on the inside. What the heck happened to you, Droppie? Weirdo. She doesn't even respond to me trying to call her the name I almost gave her when we first met since I'd thought she was a guy and that she didn't have a name—Sharp—so when she still gives no vibes, I let her have some space. What an oddball.

Chortling like the old man I one day hope to be, well, no, I don't hope to be an old man it's just gonna happen one day, but I smirk and my laugh rattles in my throat and almost, I almost feel worthy enough to call myself closer to that stature of that dignified title, "old man," and the prowling steps and steps of vivosaurs clomping on behind me like their feet eat the grass signifies that I'm not alone, all over again. I'm never alone now. Really, I never was alone: my movement from the orphanage back when I thought I was an orphan to Vivosaur Island also known as where I live and have lived for a ripe time or something, some settlement of time pursued, this all was such a rigid motion that from orphan buddies to vivosaurs, I never stood a chance.

What does it feel like to be lonely?

Whatever. I dunno. Shrugging and chugging on, the tramp of huge footprints following, I march in a saint. Someone chokes on a sob behind me because it was probably painful to hear me compare myself to something so kind and impossibly sweet and angelic. Dina's probably like that—Dina's my sister. And no more thoughts about this mysterious Dina girl. Nah. Rather not.

You know, Greenhorn Plains has oddly sentimental feelings all clamped up inside of it. Feels like a warm breeze on a rainy day, but it doesn't smell like rain, just the wind, because stuff that smells like rain smells like freaking soggy turd. I spread out my arms and flap at them a little as the breeze picks at my scaled body and pricks itself on my spiky hair which, on the inside, is actually made of bundles of... soft spikes. No. I'm not cute. Shut up. It's fierce, and it's natural, and there's a freaking orange stripe to the right side of it, which makes me look tough, cuz I'm not heartfelt, I'm tough. Maybe.

Still, the wind stretches over my skin and swamps me in fresh odors and cool touches, the grass smothering my toes and offering a squeak of laughter because Pippy has ticklish toes and _therefore, I do too._ Stupid Pippy. The gigantic sauropod in question ducks his brown-scaled head and giggles childishly. His face scribbles crayons of searing red into the flesh too, so, yeah, now my cheeks are about as red as my tongue. If I opened my mouth, there'd be one gouging flame mark of searing scarlet all across one slash of face. Creaking at eyes until they pool shut, the world turns to water around me and fills my being, and memories scratch at the door of my mind, and some of them fly out, and it's a good feeling. Palms outstretched, the weirdos I love in tandem around me, standing and intercepting the feeling of air in the sky turned to water at skin and flames leaping on our cheeks, the earth underfoot and the neutrality of the moment holding it all in sweet touch, we just freaking stand there.

 _You know... this was where you and Rosie saw that one sunrise in the morning... after leaving Bottomsup Bay, still sopping wet, those diving masks on your faces... and I got to warm you up like a little child~ And we shared such a touching moment..._ Golden eyelids flutter, and a softly chipper voice squeakily sighs. _Oh... how happy it makes me that memories link with the present just in the most perfect ways~!_

 _Yeah, that's great, Harei. Don't remind me of that day._ It was creepy. Her breath warmed my skin, clearing off the dewdrops and _it was creepy, okay._ Like she'd cleared off my fortress of skin and found the little princess inside of me and held it close to her heart—that sort of astronomically creepy thing. Harei. You freaking ourano. Stop holding those sorts of memories so dear and then randomly announcing them.

Because that totally makes sense, the beautifully accented voice kicks in after hers: what, do earth vivosaurs stick together? _Dear chap, I believe Harei's words sit with the sugar! Must you feel happy about the times we've had together? And stop calling them creepy, please, unless..._

He just trails off. The words leap off of his tongue and he loses them. _Pippy._

 _Yes?  
_

 _Learn how to finish your sentences. You're millions of years old. How long does it take._

An adorable pout erases the orange-creased forehead frowns. _Well, it's not exactly novice of me to act so timely with creatures like you and Lone to wallow with in the same bubbles!_ Dude. Just go on. Your accent is killing me. Finish the sentence; so finish he does. _I just don't want you to call old, happy memories creepy... unless you really don't like them._

Whoa, man. Way to drop a bomb. _Of course I like them! Now shut up before you ruin my man points!_ Droplet mentions something about how all of my vivosaurs are females—it's a running joke that Pippy's a girl too because he just is—and that my man points were screwed to begin with, but still. I have no hope so I have to end with but still. Make it look like there's hope. Inflate my ego some. My nonexistent ego. Nobody understands what a man like me has to go through with four girls.

 _Please do stop calling me a female! I'm not a girl, Dino! We've been over this!_ Three girls: one Pippy. Happy? _One male. I am a male._ Okay, great. _Say it, Dino!_ No. I don't wanna. And we have to leave it there because I'm slightly more stubborn than sopping wet cardboard.

And it sort of... goes on like that. Snide remarks. Laughter. Some creatures made fun of and then redeemed: somehow, someway. It all sort of fits together unlike most puzzles since somebody is always in charge of losing pieces. These strange creatures... finned, scaled, furred, feathered, and in Lone's case, all of the above, all take a strange sort of hold on me, a connection that can't really be put into words, the words themselves used to converse telepathic as it is, linked from mind to mind to hold as... one. I've known these suckers for longer than I planned to, especially for Harei and Droplet—both awkward and interesting stories about me only keeping them for a little while and then discarding them soon as possible—and it's worth it.

Shaking out my head, the spell broken, I double back and whisk off toward the maw-of-an-entrance to where the plains of greenhorn peter off to salty shores and where a lanky boat driver, more tanned than a coconut, patiently waits by his prized, white boat. Shiny and sleek as ever. I learned at some point that Captain Travers has actually owned that vessel of his for years but keeps it super spiffy because it's like his boat, so no matter when I see the shimmering eyesore, it's white and sparkly as can be. Rumor has it the blonde in the tropic getup even cleans up the very bottom of the boat where vessel meets water as deep as it goes. And it's gross; but worth it?

To let him know I think I'll be heading back to the main island soon, I raise a shiny rough black hand, and somewhere behind me my tail rattles.

 _CHOMP._

 _AAAAH! LONE! I told you to stop doing that!_

 _BUT IT'S WAGGING AND EVERYTHING._

 _IT'S. A FREAKING. TAIL. TAILS DO THAT. YOU HAVE A TAIL. YOU KNOW._

Purple face goes erect. _I HAVE A TAIL?_ The next some minutes are spent dragging tiny ditz into shiny vessel and practically locking her on squishy, white chairs. Somehow she folds into position, and as my other vivosaurs conveniently shrink into their medals—the one with the blue rim Droplet, the two of yellow rims Pippy and Harei, and Lone, of course, sitting in her purple knot—a boat growls like something fierce, and we hit waters with a hiss.

The blaring shriek of the engine cuts at my ears, but it's not too bad. Just louder than usual. I wonder why. As if to apologize for the noise, a tan face turns around while his hands are the only things monitoring the wheel, and twinkling eyes stud me. "Yo, Dino! How ya been? Ya been eatin' your vegetables, right?" Like I haven't heard it for awhile, ol' Travers's voice comes off as scratchy and parched to my ears.

"Whaaaaaat? Who eats vegetables?" Yeah I did.

"You do, m'boy!"

"Naaaaaaaahhhhh." It's funny; as far as I can remember, he's never asked me about nutrition junk. Before I know it, he'll make me do jumping-jiangos. No. Travers. I'm begging you. Don't make me do jumping-jiangos. Just thinking about it brings to thought the meaty, blue quadrupedal vivosaur it's named after. Because alliteration reasons, I don't know.

For a moment, the boat dude with a little too much sun in his diet leaves off, but then like spring his seasonal self comes right back up to the surface again. My gray orbs sort of stare at his shiny eyes right back. They match his freaking boat, those eyes of his. He didn't accidentally pour boat-cleaner-whatever into his eyes, did he? Don't go blind on me. I'm not sitting in a boat with a blind driver, man. "I see ya've grown a bit taller!"

"Then it's a success!" I still feel like I gotta shout. Everything is yelling at me all at once and Travers's narrow face gets kinda pinched at the fact that I'm raising my voice, but dude, aren't you raising your voice too?

"Ya keep at it. Ya keep at it, Dino!"

I'm going to assume he can see. Another good pointer is the rock sitting in the water that almost is torn into until swerved at the last moment. This guy probably has some boat skills in him if he's tamed this majestic beauty. He seems a lot more reluctant to wreck it than me with Droplet, even.

 _Don't even go there._ And there's the sharp counter.

 _Yeah, but it's tru—_

 _Dino the dinaurian prince son of King Dynal, I said, DON'T EVEN GO THERE._

 _Okay. Geeezzzz._ Just to sound a little more cocky. Why? Because I can. Which basically translates to no real reason. Because. Somehow, Travers hasn't even started eyeballing my red face which is flushed against because vivosaurs because Droplet and her antics and she makes me feel like her young daughter—yes, her young daughter—who's dumb and irresponsible. Oh, hey, being irresponsible might explain why I'm never worrying about the krona's health. As if it was needed...

Not like I worry about her anyways. What. No. _Awww, Dino, you're so adorable when you try to hide how much you care about us from others!_ Harei. The fact that I never mention it is a pretty big indicator that I don't like to talk about it. Crease your night blue eyes closed and please try to keep this all low-key. _But, Dino! Stop acting so resilient! It's so sweeeet!_ She's scarring me. I thought I meant something to this horrid ourano.

 _Oh, hush now, Harei, dear. There's no way this nut will crack just yet. You know how embarrassingly blunt he is when it comes to romantic relationships! Do you not recall the two girls that fell in love with him and how it took the reaction of the 'mouth-thing' to make him realize these feelings of insight in the first place?_

 _Now isn't the time, Pippy._

 _Oh, silly lad! If only you realized sooner what an enticing, magical entity that love is, so that perhaps your life could have been flourished with more buds of romance! And kisses! Ah, so many kisses from dear Rosetta—Rosie herself! Oh, what heaven would I be in if the two of you only came together! Although I admit that Duna was a fair lass herself; if only you had chosen betwixt them!_

 _STOP!_

 _But romance!_

 _STOP TALKING ABOUT ROMANCE MAN THAT'S JUST CREEPY AND GROSS AND—OHHH, YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS GROSS?_

This always gets everyone to state their opinion. _NOBODY CARES, LO—_

 _DINO'S TAIL! DINO'S TAIL IS GROSS!_

 _Yeah_ , I grunt, _cuz you bit it._

 _NOOOOOOOOO!_ That's a word purple freaks usually don't come up with. She energetically agrees with like everything and then tears down another plot hole within the space-time continuum. Freaks of nature don't know how to say no. Once again, the softhearted cocoa seismo tries to voice little baby words against me, but Lone of course shatters her own defense like the loose cannon she is. _I BIT THE WEIRD THING!_

Because she probably is smarter than everyone else, six fins intervene. _I actually think she's right for once. There were pine needles in your tail. Didn't you feel them? I sure as heck felt them. Lone probably did, too. And that, my friend, is why she forgot about said tail: it got too numb to remember._

 _LONE LONE LONE!_ Is that her approval call or is she bored? I dunno. Hard to keep count. Too many things can be taken from a bunch of "Lone"s.

Sunset streams behind us, and Lone's knot of herself bleeds into the coloring as her scales and furs and beak and webbed toes bedazzle themselves until yellow dots hit the purple spots and cyan beak and stuff. The engine blazes again, and a tan silhouette salutes beneath the folds in his straw hat, which flutters in the wind. As much of a creepy boat driver as Travers can get, I think I got used to the guy or something, because he's not so creepy anymore. His voice still has that tiny hint of nasal in it; such a clean slate though. He tries to hatch some other boater joke to which I blink and don't answer because how does one answer a boater joke, and hop off to dirt and gravel roads that crunch under scaled toes, and to the grass beyond. To my right beckons a wooden booth dressed in pink, manned by females. Two females.

One in sour lemon yellow; the other's a fresh onslaught of oranges. Beth; Sue. Boring Beth; shaky Sue. Fairly simple to remember. Lone almost forgets to move from the boat until Harei's squeak echoes, and then, nope, the blur of purple's off. Her medal clatters and sinks into my hand. Somehow, the sunset on my back feels heavy too, like it's forcing me to carry bricks. Well, that's too bad, sun, because I'm not your slave, and I'll never let you do this to me, even when you do. Stepping up to the girl donning her casual-as-it-goes sunny jumpsuit, her brown hair falling in a limp line I hadn't seen before to somewhere below her shoulders, those dark eyes of hers casting a shadow upon my entire soul and her lips crushed together like she hates me, though I don't think she does, dull lips allow sound to pass through:

"Wow, I never thought the day would come where I'd see eye-to-eye with you again." Is it just me, or does Beth sound freaking livelier than usual? What, did she get a boyfriend? A new vivosaur?

"Why the heck do you look so happy?"

She grunts, chewing her lip in more. Oh, hey, she's wearing natural-colored lipstick today. Utter miracle. "I don't know why you'd see something on me that happened ages ago," out comes the mutter, "but I broke up with one person only to learn that the feeling was mutual with someone else..."

Aaaaand moving on. Beneath the folds of a pink umbrella rests ol' shaky Sue, who, just like Beth, has undergone some tiny change that I for some reason am seeing. Then again, Travers looked less creepy, the sun felt hotter, and now everything just seems to have changed. Sue has her orange hair pinched in little wing-like bends that go all the way down past her thighs or something that long I don't care to check. Wide orbs sort of shine at me, try to stab at me, then decide they can't really do that and poke at the girl to her right. "I-I'm doing well, Dino." Wow. Why the heck are you both doing well? What happened here? Is there... what is...

I stick my tongue out to the side and wave a scaled hand at them before being forcibly dragged by four watery white fins as the other two wave off my buddies at the booth. _Ignore this ignorable idiot because he's stupid and doesn't notice much thanks great to see ya bye._ And out goes the sharp voice as I nearly trip and fall and bonk into gravel a few times and get dirt kisses all over me, but Droplet's surprisingly good at not falling and holding me at the same time. We leave our buddies at the booth behind and enter a round, glassy, classy building straight ahead, and a turn to the left leaves me right in the way of this one guy who I'm really recognizing. But wait—wait. I glanced him out the freaking window, so I latch onto the left wall and tear up some window junk and pop through. The voice of a female in a green jumpsuit tries to stop me, but _you can't stop me nothing can stop me._ Droplet rolls her eyes and pops through behind me. Her size sorts shrinks to fit and not break anything. Vivosaurs can do that.

Black scales jab at dark skin and turquoise hair and then a hug happens. Fraying ends of a white coat cloak me, as do tropical shirt and short pair and dangling glasses that clock me one and freaking mess up my spikes until they're almost as bad as that short-spiked hair. Blue-green orbs shoot at me like plants. "Dino."

"Daddy Diggins!"

"Why do you still call me that if we figured out you have parents?" Dark cheeks get all red and it's funny. His sunny and smarty and hearty tone dive right at me. "I mean, your mom is dead, but still! Why me?"

I blink like he's stupid, because he's sure acting like a scatterbrained ditz right now. "Because I care about you. And you'll always be Daddy Diggins to me, duh." I'm not really puncturing his face with my eyes, but for some reason the dark hands hug me tighter. "Does this mean I have two dads?"

"You know I'm technically not your dad, right?"

"Yeaaah, but you kiiinda aaare."

"I'm not, Dino."

"Yeah you are."

"How many times have we been over this?"

I smirk and reply happily: "Never!" Cut-off rays of sunset graze me, and they give Diggins a fantastic outline which makes me want to call him rainbow man, but he's not rainbow man, he's Daddy Diggins, so I let this one slide.

A blob of scaly green, burly with meaty, quadrupedal form, slips around the corner and sticks out the red spines chasing its hunched back. Oh, hey, that's Diggins's very so very prized stego that he loves for some reason. His first vivosaur, or something. I know not everyone keeps their first one around, but man, he and I... And just like I actually said her name, a minimized krona flips around her watery figure and advances at the other female.

 _Sup, Morrisio! Has the Doc been any kinder to you, or will he feed you vivo-cakes at all? Or does he STARVE you?  
_

 _Oh, my gosh, Droppie. Shut up. We've been other this. If vivosaurs eat food, we puke it up later. We can't digest it. I thought you'd recall, silly! Remember that time Dino made you eat those moccasins and you puked them up in the Fossil Center, and does anyone remember who had to clean those up at all?_ That thing has sass. Oh my gosh. I always forget that the tall doc has such a zesty thing when he's, well, him. Not that he's a bad dude. More like one of the coolest guys in the world. I've known him for awhile, so that's easy to say. Still. I don't get it.

Another funny thought is how young Morrisio acts in comparison to the older dude who's had her for however long it's been. I mean, Droplet's maturity basically totals mine: of course, this all forgetting the fact that all vivosaurs are millions of years old. Well, I guess they somehow make it work in the end. And then, of course, Diggins has his huge flying vivosaur, his weirdly red-feathered aopteryx which is mostly a tiny bird of white feathers but man, this one his huge and red, so I don't know. I've borrowed it a few times... For some reason, he only has two vivosaurs, and that's really all he needs.

Softly ruffling my hair, aquamarine orbs peer at me through glass. "How was your day?" See, I said he was a Daddy Diggins.

"Uhhhh... hot. And weird. Really really weird. The sun was really hot so I shouted at it a lot, and my vivosaurs were themselves as usual, and then for some reason Captain Travers isn't so creepy anymore, and Beth and Sue look really happy for some reason. Your staff girlies are changing on you... Say, has Wendy changed, too?" She used to wear green jumpsuits and her blonde hair in a tight flowery bun, hobbies consisting of green tea-drinking and making fun of me, but who knows what sort of transformation she's gone through now.

Glasses flash closer up on a stubby nose, and Diggins shrugs around his lab coat and me. "I don't reckon she has. She still complains about annoying people: you, especially."

"But I'm not annoying!"

Coy smile. That's reassuring. Diggins, I thought we were on the same team. He just tousles my hair again and chortles softly, those warm-creek orbs of his watching over me. For the most part, he's always done that, except when his crazy fossil studies junk takes an emotional turn and he goes sort of crazy and the only living thing in existence that can tame him is vivo-cakes which aren't alive but kind of count. Well, and a couple of his well kids, kids like how I call him dad, trying to tame him. It's like telling a krona to sit down and act like a nasaur. Well, the fierce kronas to be all cute and hopping like docile nasaurs.

Droplet acting like Lone is the stuff of my nightmares.

We stay like that for a while, Diggins and I, Droplet and Morrisio chasing and loping childishly around us in a tight-knit and warm circle. Sharing touching moments feels fuzzy on my heart. I hope I don't choke on all this fluff, but it's worth it either way. Oh yeah—yeah, I know Diggins. In case he for some reason started looking fictional, nah, I've just known the doc for a while. Ever since I... came here. We didn't meet because I opened a window, but it was in this area, in the Resort Area of the island, on the grass and gravel with just about only Beth and Sue looking out at us.

Night stars poke out at us, and then the brown-skinned fossil studier guy releases me, chuckling in that soft sort of chuckle to himself as Morrisio jumps up in that smaller form and chews at his lab coat. "Hey, stop that! I told you to stop that!" He swats carelessly at the gray-chinned head as pink eyes glare a little fiercely at him. _Morrisio. Stop eating my lab coat._ I never knew such deadpans were still out there.

What does the teeny stego have to say for herself? Not much. _It's a mite easier to get your attention this way._

 _What?_ I kind of stupidly stand there as Droplet grows in size and then tackles me to the ground. Her white-bellied fins stick at me and man, I need to teach her how to properly hug. This is bad. Six fins just shimmy and her tail slaps at the gravel and her pointed snout face, streaked at the top in blue then gray, breathes salty air on me and tries to kick in a gag reflex.

Out of the corner of my eye, I think that tiny green heap of scales shrugs. Her red spines all across her back flex. _Because. I wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten me._

 _Morrisio, I would never forget you!_

 _Okay great. I think Tramp has escaped again._ While Diggins checks a loose, white pocket, he groans. That creepy red aopteryx of his is gone again. Well, I don't know if I'll be much use here, so maybe I should get aw—wait.

 _Droplet. What did you do._

 _Nurfin._

 _Droplet._

 _NURFIN._

 _SPIT IT OUT, DROPLET._

 _NUR._ An awkward probing at her throat feels so weird that out pops a slightly-chewed, white-rung fossil medal, the image of a red-feathered and large bird hunched in on it. Lots of slobber pools around it until the island slithers in place and dark brown legs saunter over as their matching hand plucks up the fossil and wipes it somewhere, scolding my idiot krona all the way. While she pretends the words aren't happening, as do I, because Diggins's lectures are emotional and weird, I ask her myself:

 _What the heck is wrong with you? Why did you nab the medal and eat it? Do you want to kill the vivosaur?_

 _Nah. I just wanted to eat it. I wasn't gonna swallow or anything. I just wanted to eat it._

 _Why do you make no sense._

A long, slow chortle draws out of her long, thin snout and it makes me feel self-conscious. _Or maybe he asked me to, just to tick off Diggins._ Head bumps up toward the tall dude himself. But I think my height might be starting to gain on him. Unless I've stopped growing. _See, some vivosaurs enjoy teasing their Bonds. Don't you feel oh-so delighted that that's not me?_

 _Droplet. Look at your attempt of a hug._ My hands don't get all that far, so I decide not to try and pull them out and pat at the problem, as in the squishy krona, but my tail twitches beneath layers of her dripping-wet fins: always dripping wet. Why always dripping wet, I don't know. _Just look at this attempt of a hug. I'm trapped and you're... I don't even know. Are you laughing at me, Droplet? Do you feel proud of what you've done?_ I kinda lost what I was trying to say at some point.

 _Dino, you stopped making sense somewhere. I just wanted a hug._

"DIGGINS!" He's knocked out of his stupo—no wait, he's been trying to knock _me_ out of _my_ stupor. Oops. His face scrunches up a little, all worrisome and junk about me. "WE—" Let's not get all shouting. "We need to teach Droplet how to hug sometime!" Much better. Immediately he swipes at the krona who doesn't budge because he's only a little stronger than me, and that's not enough. Smirking, she does shrink into her aquamarine medal. Thank gosh. I think my entire back is drenched; my front sticks under the influence of lots and lots of gravel.

He blinks through shiny glasses as he helps me up. "So that's her attempt at a hug." Yeah, you likey? "She needs some help. Certainly." Oh my gosh, this deadpan just might be better than the last one: where do these things come from. We saunter together into the bright-lit glassy doors that beckon into the Fossil Center, where Diggins both lives and works on... whatever he works on while his assistants—I think there's two or three, counting Wendy-at-the-purple-booth—sort of watch over him when he gets all emotional. If we take a left here, then he can return to his room and I'll eventually get to the basement of the center, where the teleport thingy to the starship, as in where I live with my dad and other dinaurians as in our species. But it's a long walk to the basement. Ugh.

We bypass Wendy, whose pinched, pale face bites at me, and then he takes his leave at the messy, paper-strewn torture chamber of books that is his room. Turquoise hair and a white lab coat tail off and disappear as the door clicks shut.

It's a long stroll, but a quiet one, when I take my way down the first set of purple-carpeted and steel-inlaid stairs. Like a spy in a labyrinth, all of my steps have to matter or I'll fall over and like die or something. Well, no, there's a lot of guard rails over the multitude of forks in the road and dead ends and chambers that aren't the basement and stairs, stairs, stairs, and one little ramp for people on wheels, but just one. So it... my chances are pretty good. They continue to be pretty very good. I mean, I've only taken this path a few times, including the two or three I needed to access this basement in the first place, back when things were still kinda simple.

Time to think. Either I think or succumb to the voices in my head. I'd rather think, right now. They'll always be there for me. It's funny to think about them, about how... just about every fossil fighter starts off with their vivosaurs in battling, but not everyone stays in the digging-fossils-and-fighting-other-vivosaurs business. Diggins, for example. He's a master fighter and all, but he hardly ever actually battles, and Wendy and her posse don't use their vivosaurs in battle anymore. There's a lot more in there, and now I'm kinda starting to breach that bubble too.

 _Timb, timb, timb timb timb timb timb, timb, timb. Timb, timb, timb timb, timb._ Feet sound weird on metal, even if the metal is slightly coated by fluffy purple. I wonder why the Fossil Center has so many purple carpets and walls in spots. What made purple the "it" color? I don't think Diggins mentioned it anywhere. Blinking dully, I decide maybe it's—oh my gosh, it is.

See, there's this girl that I really want to get together with him, and her name is Vivian and she wears a lot of purple and her hair and eyes are turquoise too. And it'd be so perfect. TurquoiseShipping for the win, please. So anyways, maybe that's why. Well... they haven't known each other long enough for that. Maybe Diggins just knew in his heart that one day he would meet his soul mate and that soul mate would love purple. Or maybe the guy in charge of the Fossil Center before Diggins was around, or the guy who started it in the first place, whenever that was, just liked the color purple.

Or maybe it was the only kind of soft fuzz he could find out there. Whoa, that just hit something deep. Real deep.

Eventually I wander into the huge and thick, fat clutches of the gigantic basement encased in metal and touched up in purple in random places—oh, no, those are tapestries on the walls, my bad. And there, in the midst of the junk and stuff and things being worked on, to the far left, on a turquoise mat—you bet it's turquoise—sits a thick, metal staircase-like structure, sort of a small honeycomb on the top and larger ones as you go down: six in total, all connected together, the bottom ones red and the top ones silver, and the very top one white. I dash over and pop up the rungs of the ladder: _dang dang dang dang dang, dang._ A resounding _DONG_ fulfills the fat chambers and wisps of stars and bright colors space out into my vision. A cottony pad tucks into my toes. Then my knees hit it. Then my head. I think drool splatters on there too. Ew, gross, stop drooling—I SAID STOP DROOLING.

I don't stop drooling. Just great. My body's kinda detached and there are stars everywhere but then it all ends and I stand and shake myself on a rainbow-like surface of shiny silver. My feet lead me off into the northern edges of this here starship, and I enter a literally rainbow-inlaid flooring with shiny shiny walls, silver too, and there casually stands a male turned and facing the stars out of the windows. Four brown doll-like creatures called sub-idolcomps that are actually my dolls in disguise sit around him. The ruby horns on his head twitch and long, _long_ white locks of straight hair twist as the man's dark violet orbs penetrate me. I awkwardly wave a black-scaled hand. He tentatively raises a more violet one and then just sprints over and crushes me in a hug.

"Hi, Dad," I squeak weakly in some attempt of greeting, bu then I hug him too. Man, it pays off having two dads: I get lots of gut-crushing hugs.

His orbs roll over me and pink-studded but mostly purple arms hug me tighter into his deep blue chest. "Hello, Son," comes his response softly. He's got authority everywhere but also a bit of melancholy, and a very small sense of humor that tends to pop out when Lone's around. I could never understand why, but by dad likes Lone. He actually finds her cute. _Cute._ "Did you see any of your friends while you were out today?"

"Uhhh..." Well, I saw Diggins and I guess Travers counts as a friend. "Yeah. Remember the guy with the big lab coat and the dark face?" His soft laugh tells me yeah, he remembers that crazy guy. He was super scatterbrained on their first meeting; it was pretty great. "Well, I saw him some and his vivosaurs. Droplet tried to eat one of them because she's stupid, but it's all good. And I... mostly just ran around on Greenhorn Plains. It was hotter than I remember. Everything looked... different." I pull a face at him. Maybe he knows why.

Ruby wings flutter slightly and that's how I know he's thinking. Because my dad is royalty and all, he gets wings and horns. Apparently I'm supposed to get them when I'm older or something—but I'm technically an adult... Ugh, I want wings now.

"Things appear differently to the naked eye when undisturbed for a time. You have not seen your others for this time, so it would be understood that they shift under your older eye in comparison to the fuzzy images you had prior to today." Oh, okay. That makes sense. I think.

"Your friend Jkonna is waiting in the room still..." Dark orbs scrutinize at something faraway. "Does she ever leave this compound..?"

Uh... huh... "I think she leaves every once in a while, but basically mostly all of her time is spent here."

"She is a wonderful friend of yours."

"Yeah. She's more than just a friend, but she's not a girlfriend. Like a... really really special best friend or something. Even that sounds weak. Ugh."

A soft chortle. Why do you resemble Diggins so much, actual dad. "Some things are too great in this world for feeble language to attempt and explain." I didn't realize it earlier but... wow... this place has a kinda sweet smell to it. Homey. It's kinda weird to call a ship floating around in space a home, after all I've been through, but it also somehow kinda works.

My wanting to see my best friend kind of starts to show or something, and he releases me and I dart off into the hallway that leads off and around to two nicely-cut doors: the left represents my dad's room and the right's mine. There aren't doors but purple-ish waters to step through like a door, so I pull in through and land on a very messy pile of overturned sheets. My gaze pokes around, and the large bed sits further out, virtually untouched but its sheets. To the left shows some inlaid colors and rainbows, the tiny tea table of wooden texture to the side currently barren, and the small bundles of storage holding units to the right half-full of small things. The lamp further out is off. Then the thing I'm sitting on lets out a high-pitched, watery sneeze.

"EW!"

I bolt and slam first into that wooden chest-plate of the bed then scramble on it. Still fluffy and soft, without its multiple covers. My dad gives us way too many like he's worried we'll get cold. Shaking myself, spikes of black hair trembling, I turn and face the bundles of reds and oranges and silvers and purples of fabric until a fiery-colored head of bangs pokes out. Icy blue orbs search at me, then blue-touched cheeks and a smirk inch out as well. Dark skin frames the whole thing. "You're not diga-dead! It's a miracle!" she cries out triumphantly. The short girl spurts out of the sheets and barrels into me, her sort of tunic dress of brown rubbing at my scales and the beads along the edges rattling silently. That had to be the third hug today. No, wait, Droplet gave me a total of three: that'd be... the sixth hug? Yeah. The sixth.

"Geeez, Jkonna, I thought you trusted me!" My gray orbs force into her and try to get answers but there's way too much sparkles in there. "How was I supposed to die that quickly, anyways, you freaking digadig?"

Her cheeks puff out and she pouts. Long strands of fiery hair, longer than my dad's, litter all around her. See, they go to her feet by themselves, so who knows where they'll get tied up when not so... neatly aligned. If that's neat at all. "You never knoowww... But—but you're not even allowed to diga-die! I won' let it." That's great. "I. Won'."

"Pfft, did you say that on accident?"

"Yes. But now it sounds kinda funny, diga."

"I won' let it!" I cry out at her, and she tumbles over, all fits and giggles. "But I won', Dino, I won'! You can' stop me!"

"Oooohhh..." Her voice takes a chill. "But I WILL!" She careens into me and both of us topple off the bed, hitting carpet and her hair hitting me. "See? See? Aren't I scary, diga-Dino?" Her eyes brighten like this is when I'm supposed to tell her how great she is.

But she... but she's not. "No."

"Meanie." Another pout.

"I can't tell something that's adorable that they're scary. Geez. Get it right, Jkonna. Don't make me call you that name." I mean when I first tried to pronounce her name it came out as "Jay-kay-ner," and man, did she hate that.

Her eyes quickly cloud over from the memories and before I know it she sneezes again and shudders. Not really sure what I did, I reach out to hug her, and you know what, she shies away and bounces back on her bum, her toga splitting around her. Her huge thighs come up like a wall and she sighs softly. "Oh... Did diga-Dino say an uh-oh?" I squeak.

A shake of the head.

"What did I do?"

A shake of the head.

"Is it hard to think about?"

Hesitant nod.

"...What is it..?"

A quiet sigh. Icy orbs flicker back at me. "It's just hard to remember back before you... You always stay in here now, and you hardly diga-do anything... and on most diga-days you're a sulking mess... and it's hard when you feel a little better cuz I know it won't be the same tomorrow... When diga-does it stop, digadig?" Oh...

She brought the thing up. I don't know how to respond to the thing. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to support the thing or try to make it sound better when it simply is, now. "You a-almost never go outside, diga... and when you diga-do, you talk about how much it's changed when it hasn't, you just have, and it's killing me. I want to help you, digadig... diga-Din-Din..." She used the nickname and she's talking about the thing. It's serious now. It's... it is serious. It's a serious thing, whatever's happening to me.

Because I don't know how to respond with this crazy lump in my throat—I don't wanna cry again right now—I step over her, retrieve the blankets, and pillow them over the huge, canopied bed as my vivosaurs spill out upon it happily, their eyes a little dull and sad. Jkonna stands too and lets hers fall: one earth, one air, one fire, and one water. She's more balanced than my two water and two earth. Diggins once asked me what if I have to fight a bunch of air and fire vivosaurs together who go for my vulnerable ones, and I told him they were just as bad as me.

It's kind of hard to think about that now. I don't think she meant to, but Jkonna really sobered the mood. Not like either of us are leaving, though.

Our eyes share a glance, and I can't help but wonder what the heck went wrong with me.

 **Me: there you have it. Dino almost never goes outside anymore... this is where Jkonna really plays in. :3 It's kinda sad but... you'll have to see the story around all of this that happened and find out whether or not Dino will recover in the end~  
**

 **Plus, there are two other main characters that'll be first seen in the next chapter. Yay! Heh, oh my gosh I'm really somber on the inside now... is sad thing...**

 **Welp. There you have it. Chapter one. Thank you for reading this far x3**


	2. Da: Change of Scales

**Me: So... I said there were two other characters you have yet to meet. See, remember when Dino mentioned having a sister? Well, this is where she comes in. x3**

 **Jkonna: -w- But I wanna save diga-Diinoooo...**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 2: Change of Scales

 _Dina_

"...So then, anyways, after that all died down, the princess said it was okay if I keep gardening, but I could only do it if she came with me. At least, I think that's what she said. Joanie had to translate, and, I mean, she's Joanie. Her accent is about as static as thunder gets!"

The chipper face peeping toward me from under the screen of strange electronic lights glances in such a way that I do not feel as if he is so far away, on another island entirely, inside of bricks of rainbow that confine him to a castle, a welcoming castle of warm and fluffy hearts, that still holster him up and out of my reach, out of my line of sight. Although it should seem unable to render, a small, pinched, brunette face fills my sight, tanned—extra tanned—cheeks puffy and bright of air, freckles poking out the little details on his figure, and a beige cap donning his head and keeping a major assessment of chocolaty curls in check. His neck slides down and cuts off just where the brushing of a doglish-furred collar of a coat begins, but the strange imagery providing of this sight of Todd, my foster brother, is cut to the shard of his head alone.

The doglish culture spoken of pertains toward furry although bipedal creatures. The last I had heard of them, their short and stubborn heir to the throne, Princess Amurr, had snuck into a fossil tournament alongside her best friend and forever companion, a blonde and tall nomadistinian named Joanie. She and her have been reunited with their royal family and friends by now in the kingdom island of Nomadistan, and Todd has lived there for some time now. It apparently does remarkable twinges to his health.

My dear foster brother of sunny stature had been... under dire situations some time ago. He had suffered quite a, um, wound, that proved to be fatal and seemed unable to heal in any which way, but somehow the docile creatures of Nomadistan upon taking him in have seen lovely changes to his composure. Worry swelling to the wound of his own pain has fluttered to a close on my side. How wonderful it is to know he will... surely be okay in the end.

"Todd..." My voice, now. Small. Quiet. Icy—but Rupert calls it a soft, kind, wintry icy, not bitter. I do not know; maybe it is bitter... "T-Todd... are you sure... y-you do not mean something other than 'static thunder,' or is that correct terms..?" Was there another word that is supposed to fit that blank? Lightning? Is her accent lightning static, not thunder?

A chuckle seeps into my body and yanks converation onward. Todd taps his beige cap and fiddles at the lid so that waves pop over it. "No, what the heck are you talkin' about, Dina? You crazy, crazy girl!" My silvery cheeks redden. I almost forgot they are... scales, now... not pale-as-pale-can-be skin... "It's static thunder, of course! Who ever thought of lightning being electric? Geez. Well, don't worry about it. Just be glad I'm here to fix your errors!" I am glad, that someone is here to correct me and configure my... flaws.

There are multiple people in my life, now, that can do that. And they do not hurt me when they do. Which is very different.

Somewhere deep inside of me, a voice stirs. _Dina... it's okay. It's okay, I promise._ A green head donned in feathers expands into existence and situates her feathery body beside me, fluffing back wings and peering in purple pools of eyes. _We're here for you now, and that past is over. Aah..._

 _Y-yes..._ She is Nyra, of nycto ace origins. A green-feathered creature currently shrunken of a form, flitting her orbs birdlike and relentlessly as to poke and prod every crevice hidden within the shadows of the ovoid, open-windowed chamber we ensconce within. The thick bars of sunset penetrating squares of open windows seek from all possible corners, still in a strangely systematic, geometric pattern of wooden pylons through each block of fluttering sunlight. A penthouse, Joe had labeled it, and I have used it, many times, to serve for a name. The fossil fighting master, Joe Wildwest, lives here, and now, so do I. Although the memories remain untouched in the very epicenter of my frozen mind, and I have remained amnesiac, and my faintest memories remain to consist of the parents of my foster brother and their... not-all-too-kind selves before disposing of me, should my endpoint be here—Joe was a part of these broken pieces, and he recalls me well enough.

Apparently there had been a point where he had found my childish figure... in this strange form of silvery and white scales dressed in orange and purple twinges, my third-mentioned waves of orange-silvery hair brushing over and around me, in this strange form where a tail sits behind me and... wags... at altogether appropriate spaces, apparently Joe had seen me like... this, at some point. As if my other figure could... switch betwixt the two of these.

It throbs to think of. Attempting to excavate old memories on such a barren, lost wasteland does not work very well, sadly. Gently shaking my head, I refocus to the tiny, light screen where the brunette on board salutes and raises his voice: "I SAID, IT'S REALLY NICE HERE! Geez, Dina! Where did your attention go? It's like I was talking to Flower. It's like I was talking— _to—Flower!_ " He refers to the red-spiked quadrupedal shaped like a deep prune who scathingly shoots back his own words. Every time. It... brings another face to mind...

 _Oh, you will not get me in there. Take back your dirty, cracked mind and keep it away from me._

 _Reyna.._ She rears her black-scaled head and snarls through pylons of teeth that crack at the edges like a whip. _Ah..._

 _Oh, come on, Reyna! We've been over this! Please don't terrorize Dina!_ Without the other vivosaurs here to... er... protect me—they are quite efficient at it, after calling me "pushover" and them "babysitters," it all came together—Nyra is quite on her own at countering the grayscale biped, her thick legs corded, strong, and stubborn. Although she has one weak spot.

He is not even connected to her, but the miniature, brown, white-haired raja, miraculously tiny, tiny enough to be plucked and held even by my small arms, materializes inside and offers his own word. _Rey-Reeeyyyy! C'mon, let's be nice today! You can do it! You can do iiit!_ His peppy tone pulsates deep in her bones.

But Reyna is almost unstoppable. _We were nice yesterday._ A hot-breathed sigh. _What if I don't want to be nice today!_

Somewhere in that jumble, Todd squeaks again and directs my attention toward the small, green-lined device clamped tight in my crystalline-white hands. "They're so loouuddd! Haaa, just like I remember them, before getting moved here!" His whole situation was worrisome, bu the paleness has fled from his skin, and his grin widely stretches to address the emotions within.

"Todd... U-um..."

"Yeah, Dina? Dude, shoot. You won't miss. Just say stuff!"

"A-ah, o-okay... u-um... D-do you feel better... n-now that you are here?"

"Me? Oh, totally. I guess you can't see with the screen..." The excited, mellow tone alight with a small flame of adventure abruptly drops off. Soon, a resonating _CRAACCKK_ fills his screen and chips against mine, zinging up my arms, tracing my features, embedding in my heart, when, from the view on the stone floor, facing stark upwards, a slouching, green-dressed figure waves down toward me and points, points at the line that once cut from his neck to one of his knees, or perhaps both of them... I-I forgot... the lines are too faint to enforce memory... H-how can I stand to forget details when my entire life before Todd and his family is cut off from all use—simply not there?

A snort edged in hot air tickles my neck. _Stupid. We all forget things. Don't expect everything to just freaking be there—it doesn't work like that. I'm blind and deaf, don't_ you _go forgetting, I can't possibly remember what I see and hear through telepathic connections between vivosaurs and people, and my overall vivosaur conceptions, before going out into the real world, and even there I don't remember the feelings or tastes or touches or smells. I can't. You can't. Stupid. Get over it._

 _I... o-okay, Reyna..._

Unsure how it works, somehow, Todd must hear from my vivosaurs through the technology. "She's not that stupid, Reyna!" His tanned skin puffs around the cheeks and their edges that had once gone bony, made his face angular and sallow in the bending of light as an elder, waxy candle. Seeing the color return flushes my face and draws a smile, and my gaze returns to the damage that had come to him and seems to have passed. The epicenter, his stomach, where all had returned to, still, as he rips past his green-striped and -buttoned shirt, pointing toward the pulsating point, it has not left.

"Y'see, nomadistinians are soooooo cuddly and reliable and affectionate and some of them don't understand Vivaldi so they all go woof-woof in their language and man, it's soooo cuuuuute!" He begins prancing about the chamber and accidentally steps on his device, causing boy and screen to scatter wildly. Either he or the device smacks against bookshelf. Please let that have not been him. Whether Todd or not, he resumes his barefooted position of hovering over the screen and offering chipper grins. "So it, like, really helps. I don't remember what kind of healing they call it, but man, it works. Like so well. I almost want to live here forever. Buuut then I might not—wait I can!"

 _SsscchhhlluuUMP._

Boy hits ground and latches upon device, his curls of tousled, brown hair and freckles scooting closer. "We're gonna host this tournament sometime soon... called the... uh... oh right, the Nomadii Cup, and it's gonna be so great and _you have to make everyone come._ I heard some other people were gonna show up from other islands, too... like... there's this Doug guy, I think his last name is Digging or Diggin or something, and anyways he looked reaaaally interested to who was signing up... Wonder why. Weirdo. So, well, you have to come visit and sign up soon!" Tossing back his dress of green-spun shirt-and-pants covered in the silky, soft coat smothering him on all sides, Todd grins again as his eyes sparkle. I feel that... mine do as well. Emotion flourishes in there, and it must reveal how nice this will be, deep in my soul. I have not seen my foster brother for quite a time, besides on these devices... His health is rapidly improving, which gives me joy, but... I have stayed here with Joe and... with Rupert as well. Torn told me it would be a good idea. Torn is not here right now... he will be, soon.

"So, anyways, sorry to move on from such an awesome topic, but it's not like I know all the inside info." Boisterous and proud, Todd casually slumps his shoulders and adjusts from the length of where he will hold his device, allowing only the head with the beige cap and the top of his neck to display, he goes on. "Soooooo..." Eyes burn with a new frenzy, and it worries me. It truly worries me. What is going to—"How many times has Rupert kissed you?"

"Wh-wh-wh...wh-what?" It is all I manage to squeak as my figure suddenly takes control and slumps over powerlessly, breathlessly. Ho-how... H-how d-do I... a-answer... th-th-that... How am I supposed to... I-it is not like I can count all that we—

 _SLAM._

"Eeeep!" I jump in place and am quickly held in place by pale, black-gloved hands without the finger-part open and clutching me tightly, arms dressed in the rich red of a coat intercepting and hugging me closely. The yellow orbs from an angular face I find qu-quite cute turn to stare coldly toward the giggling, smirking boy on the screen. They... they have a history.

"Todd, you are not supposed to ask such questions of a lady."

His fitful wave of giggles tightens in his chest until hiccups emerge like islands. "Y-yeaaah! Especially _your_ lady!" More laughter. My cheeks singe of red and my hands pull up to cover them. I have lost all concept of what to say, what to do, and all that happens is he coolly faces Todd and responds with, "Especially my lady."

I did not expect him to say that. Somewhere inside of me, my legs lose the ability to function and I must be held tighter in order to not fall over. White-scaled toes attempt to stand, and each foot horrendously fails until the boy beside me decides to gently place me on the ground and join my side. His fingers cup over mine, then remove the device from my shaking hold. "Todd..." He shakes his head of white hair, the soft stands—and I know they are quite soft—tracing down to his chin. "Pester your furry friends; do not come so close as to harm Dina."

"Heeey, I wasn't gonna hurt her! I just wanted to ask her a simple question!" His face pours all it can into a childish, wide-eyed pout. Brown orbs attempt to accept the boy into him. "Ruuuppeeerrtttt..."

"It will never succeed."

"Awwwww..."

He sighs softly, his icier tone asking, "Did you truly think it would?"

"Of course! I totally thought you'd let me off easy."

"Then I am done with you." _Click._ The screen dyes black, and all connection with Todd has currently been cut off. For a moment, breath stirs within us, neither entity speaking, my own lungs held by icy claws of burning, trembling embarrassment that has ransacked me and left me barren. My tail flickers behind me like a flag of surrender; my head ducks toward the ground; my hands fall to the wooden floorboards and clutch fragments that do not exist. Fluffy waves of soft orange bangs cascade over my forehead, stretching and prowling through the edges of my peripheral vision. Once, my eyes had been brown, before this change: now they shine a strange amethyst color.

Calmly he perches the device on one side and inches it past, soon laying his hands, his warmer hands, over my scaly ones. Sometimes I wonder why he is... okay with it... why it is okay that I am not vivaldi like he and Todd and Joe, that I am, I do not know what I am, but it is not vivaldi it is scaled, scaled like Reyna only not as dark and I am not blind or deaf. She is the only vivosaur I am aware of to have patched senses; my other vivosaurs themselves seeming cleanly-knit in comparison.

Whether he senses it or not, perhaps sees it in my shaded eyes, Rupert gives a little tug to my fingers, and, when I accept, he lifts our combined hands and searches my small face. Yellow orbs cast a soft glow upon me. Finally, I flick a small glance toward him, allow it to surface, for the ripples to resolve, to silently look back toward him. He... does not feel comfortable around most others. As a... gifted child, he had always been surrounded by others of whom saw him as a catalyst and sped in frenzied emotions at him. Although... he is polite as well. The thinnest ring of humility one can learn and train their body to force, but still a politeness. It is funny... how someone who could be so lonely only wanted another to see them, and yet they forced people out with a frozen barrier all the same. I question my situation... why I am here...

No words are uttered; he draws me close and weaves his red-cloaked arms around me, holds me tight. I mimic his movements quietly. Our faces come close; his breath feels oddly relaxing when it blows over me. Yellow orbs watch over me, and he murmurs, "Dina... you are safe. You are safe now."

He is not talking about Todd. He is not referring toward the silly foster brother of mine that I have cherished for many years, who has, because of me, come under his skin, perhaps just a little bit: still there. He is not talking about the past. He is not talking about Reyna or my vivosaurs or my pained awkwardness, my flaws or his talents, or... any of the hardships that may have crossed his seas.

I feel safe, here. Safe... to be held by this single one. It is simple; it is happy. Happy is nice.

When happy feelings occur... it is nice to be able to share them with someone who understands. It is nice to... have this boy by my side. I whisper back: "Yes...

"U-um..." His orbs silently watch me, but they do not ask what is wrong: curiosity glows within. He will... wait. He has... waited before. "Y-you can... feel safe, too..."

As far as I know, Rupert has not smiled for a... very long time. He does not smile now, nor have I ever seen his lips turn. But his eyes will glow; and a warm feeling wraps a bow through my heart. "Thank you, Dina..." His soft reply. When two people have gone through a vast ordeal together, simple words begin to mean more than their tiny phrasings. There is more, now; there will always be more, now.

My face stammers red; something twinges tightly in my chest. Frantically purple orbs swoop for the windows, then duck the other direction, peeking abruptly and awkwardly toward a position in between. Cheeks flame. I want to... I want to... Courage... Courage... A deep breath; air fills my lungs in one big breath. Somewhere behind the figure beside me in the red coat, fingers outfit a tighter hold. I silently count to three in my head; I am not good at counting, but I can manage that number. Deep breath... deep breath... and... a-and...

I dive in very close; his breath washes over me; orbs warmly seek me; I come in contact with his li—

 _HOLY FUCK!_

I nearly splatter. Rupert ignores the telepathic yell, his hand gently cupping my cheek, pulling me closer anyways as my scaled face burns. My heart beats in a rapid motion I am sure he must feel, as my hands holds onto him tightly and the emotions inside melt me out. The breath that spilled out so suddenly grows easy, natural, simple, taming my docile self just as easily as it had sprung earlier. I do not perceive how much of the jumbled shouting had continued until Rupert pulls me back slightly and his gaze meets a lemon yellow that is similar to his, only flaming.

 _You damn Rupert. I fucking hate you._

Wait...

 _Yes, Torn, I am well aware of your strong dislike of me._

Torn... his...

 _You fucking tried, man. I'll give you that much._

Why is his... his eye...

 _I doubt you will show gratitude for it._

It hits me: _Torn! Y-your eye! It is not yellow!_

Dull, just-as-rosy pink orbs stare at me and blink harmlessly. _Hi, Dina. Can you stop liking Rupert already?_

 _T-Torn! Your eye! Wh-why is it so p-pink—a-a-and your... s-skin! Y-your skin... y-your scales a-are so... blue... n-not red... they had been red..._

Pausing, the white-haired boy warmly pressed against me peers lightly my way. His soft murmur spreads through my mind via the connection with Torn. _Yes. I have... given him some changes I thought he might like. I had told you earlier I wanted to borrow him and Trikko, yes? My first idea was to change this dimetro into a lugmos, but he didn't accept such a thought. He demanded to stay in this form. As did Trikko. It seems they are used to their bodies and do not wish to change as Nyra has from her nycto form to the ace._

Did he... he did th-this for me... d-did he not... _You... a-ah..._

 _You mean very much to me, Dina. Do not fret. It only took somewhat longer to find them silver instead of gold fossil heads. It is... not much of a plight. I thought you might like it; they certainly wanted to change their coloring and perhaps become slightly stronger, even if super revival was too much for their small brains to handle._

 _I DO NOT HAVE A FUCKING SMALL BRAIN._

Fanned sail and all, the now-blue quadrupedal flickers his forked, red tongue and titters. _Trikko was right behind me, dammit. I think he got shy. GEEZ, TRIKKO. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU CHANGED THAT MUCH. YOU'RE STILL BLUE._

From somewhere behind, a stout, low voice mutters: _It is that much._ He gives a disgruntled snort, like an elderly curmudgeon would, and does not move from his hiding spot. I have come to believe that he resides just behind the wood that encircles the tidy escalator, the single exit from the penthouse Joe claims as his home, as do I now... a-and Rupert, as well... To be without him would feel... wrong... and a little scary... The nightmares might not go away if he is not that; that is a test I never wish to configure.

 _Dina, are you daydreaming about that damn boy again?_ Pulpy rose orbs come in contact with my emotions and he angrily props his claws upon wood, _thuck—thuck—thuckkking_ his way through tiny holes. Like a mammalian creature, unlike the reptilian vivosaur he is, the fanned face of blueberry shivers toward me and scrapes at the sky-colored bending in his fan. Darker lines crisscross in other areas; his body shivers in an effort to change his coloring to red again. _Don't daydream about him or I swear I'll fucking die._ Adventurous and rowdy: that is the Torn I have grown up to the side of.

The stouter tone from beneath the shadowy safety of hugging the wall peeps out again: _Torn, if she likes someone, you shouldn't be so consistent about ruining his life. He and Dina are well-suited for one another and their personalities alone relatively match. These facts, this logic, proves the feelings of romance and affection fit perfectly fine in here, so you need to grow up and accept it._ His snort grows louder. _Millions of years old and look at this nefarious pest._

Torn smacks his head sidelong to the air and lowers the sky of an eyelid to cut his birthday-cake eye in half. _Says the bitch who's embarrassed because of his primary-color candy-cane shit._

 _Fine. Be that way._

Small and simple and compact, just as this smaller version of my dear dimetro currently stands, a triple-horned face fanned in sky-blue and cherry-red flickers out toward his audience. Like deadly freckles, one sticks above his nose, the other two near his ears. Clawed, stout paws scramble in a flushed fashion to escape from the open air and embed himself within me, his forelegs scrabbling for a hold on me and his breath thick on my stomach. _Torn's mean. I don't need logic to prove that._

 _I'm your best friend, Trikko! I thought we agreed I'm allowed to get away with this kind of crap! Don't tell me you don't serve it daily too!_ His tricera pal continues to mutter angry Trikko words nobody but him seems to comprehend, too low a pitch for one of usual hearing to catch, and as abruptly as he had formed, the weight on me vanishes and is replaced by the tot form of Torn, who uses tiny claws to pinch at me.

Rupert still clasps his arms over me: one rests over my cheek, the other, my silvery back. The one further out retreats in order to pluck Torn by the nape in his reptilian neck and situate him on a nearby floorboard. Sunny orbs watch me peculiarly, as if in question to what I thought about the makeovers my vivosaurs now own. I watch their childlike plodding, their tiny yips and yelps, their scratching at the back of the other in the vain attempt that the original color lies underneath: and it is... silly. A giggle bubbles and spills from my mouth; my eyes shy for the brown, earthy tones below, and Rupert places his hands over my shoulders, his pale and angular face leaning in close to me, white locks of hair flicking as he moves.

"It... gives me joy... to hear your laugh," in his little response, such a whisper, "that I am the reason you laughed. That you smiled because of me..." His golden orbs drop from me and set awash upon the tones of the sunset as it dips into the curtain of seas to come back, as it always will, tomorrow. Night approaches. Stars quickly show themselves like chips of stone in the sky, an inky darkness squeezing out and melting into the horizon. Reyna, catching sight from my own vision via her telepathic vivosaur assets, lets out a long, slow sigh at the sight of dark netting and blooming. She enjoys this.

Her warmth catches cold and hard in my chest. A small cough erupts inside of me, punching against my stomach, my chest, my white palms touching silvery cloth of skin and feeling the fabric-like substance sink and grow numb within me. Deep breaths, the words flow, deep breaths.

People can be scary. Darkness can be scary too. I must be a fearful person. Er, um... whatever-I-am. The Huricans, parents of Todd Hurican, may as well have been the creators of both icy contacts inside of me, but... maybe not. An abyss of nothingness comes before them, only tapped in corners where Joe prodded and attempted to resurrect things I am supposed to associate with myself and feel a rainbow of emotions toward. It is hard to feel a rainbow of emotions toward a black, empty block. Perhaps that is why I am... e-emotional. Maybe...

 _Dina, if it hurts to think about, stop fucking thinking about it. I swear, how many times have I told you?You're a pushover but does that mean your own nonexistent memories get to shove you around too? See. This._ This _is why Trikko and I exist._

O-or maybe not. I gently shake my head. Perhaps I am simply turning on the heavier side of things at the moment...

Rupert gently encloses one of his pale hands around mine, and we rise. I doubt he pertains any reasons to particularly enjoy nighttime, as well. A small filter shines over the yellow orbs, it named concerned, sympathetic; he gently steers me back from the darkened splotches of windows and toward the back area of the penthouse, where thin wood strips of sliding doors procure, and where a small assortment of bedrooms, behind each door, lies. Joe had told me that he had these constructed some time ago for visitors or specific people that would stay with him. Like if he... found me again, I suppose, after the blank slot of amnesia, whatever had removed me in the first place. Placing his free hand on the carved handle, looped in elaborate designs, the fingerless glove on the hand of the boy beside me gleams a mesh, as if his hand is trapped on the entrance to the small chamber just ahead. The moment passes; the door _ssshhhhffs_ open; we enter within the quiet confines.

Tacking of vivosaur footprints, one of willowy quality and the other more the stumps of trees, a body adorned in a long fan once the color of charming flames waddles in silently, Torn stopping abruptly on his paws to itch at his blueberry head. He has swooned somewhat taller to act more of a plush-like size than a mini that can harmlessly sit on top of me with those baby claws, and behind him, the fanned face of Trikko, alternating in fiery and cyan colors, waddles through as well. He flexes his blue back and observes how _red_ instead of _blue_ , a darker blue, the majority of his body has adjusted to. The rest of it, once a moonlit pale, has now resurrected in the surreal blue.

 _Torn, I still don't like this._

 _Fucking good for you, Trikko._

Something shuffles near my ear, and a mint-green disc—medal—flips through the air, morphing into the feathery green-and-white Nyra it had been before. _You boys!_ she squeaks. _I had been out as well until your presences caused me to feel safer dispersed._ A soft, disgruntled caw flicks from her poised feathers. _When will you learn to be more careful..._

First the fiery one. _Fuck careful._

Then Trikko. _I assure you, this was all the dope's fault to my side._

 _Of course it was._ Nyra teasingly narrows her royal purple orbs.

 _It was! Do I listen to anything other than the facts?_

 _Nyra, if I take all the blame, you should date me._

 _Date you?_ I have... never seen her feathers grow so hot and stifled: red, embarrassed. _U-uum... But you did to it, then!_

 _Yes. I did._ His grin curls over as smug, but his heart is not into it anymore. His trim features sag, the fan kicking over the side in his posture. Did that... did those words... what did they mean? What is this "date?" Y-yes, as... sadistic as it is... I do not understand these terms... Torn once told me, one time ago, that Rupert had taken my hand because he had emotions for me, emotions I had no sense of that very first time, I only thought of it as a sort of motion friends would... commit to. Oh... how embarrassing of me...

As if sensing my unease, Rupert continues to pull me from the jumpy vivosaurs and releases once we reach the sagging, therefore comforting couch to the side of the room, where the quilt whose original whereabouts I do not know lies folded atop the edge, and the brown fabric sinks me into the plush composure as I lay beside Rupert. His focus lowers toward the boots always donned upon his figure, to which he slips the elaborately-carved brown shoes off. I never would have known he wore fuzzy, red socks lined in white trim beneath, if I was not myself. They match his attire. Drawn up beside him, my gaze flicks over the composure I have become to recognize so well in the amount of memories I do pertain: the soft, white hair pressed up against my head, his yellow orbs watching me silently at all times, the pale skin and blue collar attached to the top of his red coat, the white stripe down the middle and edging the very bottom of it, how the fabric over his arm starts red and ends in cuffs of large, deep, dark blue circles, and his puffy, white pants striped in red I always found very... cute... And his socks as well. He is... cute to me...

Reyna excretes herself from me and lands a rather large stain on the ground, her dark head and red eyes peering angrily into the darkness she cannot interpret, not because it is late but because of her blindness and deafness that make it impossible without the assistance a vivosaur owns that she cannot always use in the outside world. Beside her, a tiny stain of brown, shivering hair of long, to-his-tail white fronds spiked in few areas of yellow and red thorns, Aladee the raja stays beside her and grins. Sighting Torn, he confusedly strays back, fearing the new color change. When he eyes Trikko, his brown face alights in color and he fumbles back against the blind and deaf krypto he is close to and therefore finds comfort in, whether she can or cannot see and hear what may be sneaking up on her.

Out from one of his pockets, a blue medal hits the wooden paneling below. After that falls a white-tinged one, then another blue, then one of yellow. He told me that is the new one. While the other three precedents morph into much smaller versions of their selves, the yellow-tinged one continues to sit quietly, alone; it reminds me of Aladee before he began to excitedly show off his inner colors. Perhaps she will do better, too.

The first of his three that do show is the, as she is called, mapo queen herself, her bipedal body lined of dark spikes and one curling just over a royal blue eye, the other shining valiantly in the darkness; the rest of her body sparkles in a deep blue aura. She follows up to where Nyra flits and calls her down. They are close, I have noticed. After her comes an elder-looking, pale blue creature of stick-like figurine named Gyntis, and I believe an e-raptor. After him is the final, tiny, chipper Sunny, having used a miraculous fossil like Nyra and Mistress, only they had shared one and Sunny did not, her tiny, yellow, finned marple self just as small as Aladee is on a regular time.

"Dina..?" He softly calls for me; my purple orbs touch him from where I rest beside him. "Dina... I know you do have many fears, but you are strong in... other ways. Do not let your flaws cut you down. I will always... be with you... for as long as I can." I... o-of course he is worried for me...

"I know of relentless, unruly foster parents from the only past you can remember and... truly terrifying creations that possess another before deciding to drop the act, form into a vivosaur..." He shakes his head. I feel the touch above me. "It cannot be easy, but... I will not allow you to give up..."

Zongazonga. Whatever caused my loss of memory and Joe at that time revolves around him. It had happened some years ago: Joe found him, he possessed Joe, Joe spent years attempting to regain his body and did not until I had come into the picture along with Todd and Rupert and Pauleen as well, she is boisterous like the first but kind, a kindling flame, and only when Joe did regain his body did Rupert lose his to this creature: this... Ancient, it is called. Vivosaurs from the start of time that caused all other beings to exist here.

Apparently their souls loiter around in our world, waiting for either their bodies to become fossilized and be dug up by some poor soul, or for one to pass by them... so that they can... take over them.

Yes; Zongazonga falls under "truly terrifying creations." He was not very nice. I think he does not exist any longer; I trust he is not around now to... h-hurt someone else. H-honestly, my entire life as far as I can remember for a wide majority was not very nice. It is... beginning to recover now. Perhaps alongside Rupert and Torn and all of the kind and happy people in the world I live in, I will learn how to find my peace, just as any soul should be able to do.

"Rupert..?"

"Dina..."

"I... feel safe with you... e-even when it is scary."

He silently eyes me; the feeling of Rupert beside me brings a new rush of warmth. "Do you... truly feel this way about me? I can hardly believe it..." About to look away, my squeak causes his eyes to wash over me again.

"But it—but it is true, and it is real, and y-you can believe it!" I have noticed that Rupert never raises his voice at a soul, but it plunges icily against those he dislikes. Sometimes mine raises in a squeak, but that is as far as I can manage before the sound tumbles in and over. "Please do not feel like something this... i-important to m-me... is..."

The warmth his eyes gives off reminds me of a smile. I have never seen the tenderhearted boy proffer a smile. To see he himself truly feel the rush to... react like so: I can hardly imagine what sort of world that might be. The feeling in his gaze reminds me of a beam, although it does not quite capture the motion, it is as close as I have seen thus so far.

Thus so far...

"You are the most important thing in my life, Dina." He sighs gently. "Of course, you are also... the only thing in my life. I suppose it could be seen as mandatory, in such case, but your... childlike glee... is a lot for me. You are soft-spoken and... cute."

"Y-you are cute," I stutter.

I lose sight of Rupert for he has come too close to me for my gaze to reflect upon him and configure whether or not I-I made him blush. It is hard to... catch a strong look toward someone when they are... u-uh...

 _DAMMIT. WHY KISS HER FOR THAT?_

A suitable pause draws out before Rupert responds: _I will do so when I wish to._

 _You guys kiss too much..._ Torn grumbles a long string of words that are blotted out by Trikko who raises his voice an octave and yells incomprehensible gibberish to draw out the noise.

Nyra then finds this the perfect moment to utter a comeback.

 _DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT NOW, OF ALL TIMES, NYRA? DAMMIT! IF I KISSED YOU ON A DATE, THAT'S A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT TOPIC!_ The slump in his sail has vanished. Trikko utters something about how he has replenished hopes since Nyra obviously considered the kiss prior to mentioning the plausible outcome. _I'm done with you idiots. Geeez._

 _Torn, you'll never be done with me._

 _Shut up, Trikko._

The duo childishly intervenes with one another as they tend to do. Their... "arguments" oddly seem to bring them closer... s-so I am not too worried... Thoughts brood inside of me, small remnants of the memories that I have flourished and do recall: quite vividly, in the special extremities. My fingers, warmed by the one beside me, hold fast to the boy of cold shell and warm, gentle heart, the one who I have grown to trust so deeply in our time come together. Those memories... pristine or dangerous as they may be, are... momentous to me; a great, startling warmth resonates from there that I cling upon, as I do with the physical version to my side.

He has... been by my side through a lot, if the memories I do own are as logical and correct as I am sure they are, a-as sure as I am that Torn has a black language affinity; and I have been by... his side through as much turmoil. These catharses that have come to dominate our lives, both of structural pain and whimsical beauty, each of... interesting and generous measures, are... very special to me, harmful or less. If it... is not enough of a setback in the mentioning and depicting of the Zongazonga ancient and... m-my foster parents, no other words needed, please, as well as... the father of Rupert himself. Qu-quite the enigma.

Enigma...

Gently shaking my waves of orange-tinged hair, I nuzzle closer to the one beside me and feel... safe, that it is him I am allowed to... be this close with. This brownie of a sofa upholsters us, snuggles us away from the cold, hard earth of reality below, holds us underneath the dark of the inky sky. At once, there had been a time where I only saw Rupert in this frame of daylight; I had first met him in the subdued world pledged by black.

Although... life morphs changes into people. If these "truly terrifying creations" concur and concur... w-well... Shaking my head, I strive for other memories to delve into, other than those. Now that I do have other memories, I can... seek those happy times. And they follow me around in pockets: Torn, Trikko, Rupert. A rainbow of others gleam in my sight and accompany me. It is... nicer, now. Much nicer. An interlude of silence, a tepid silence that blooms in my heart, fills me: here beside the white-haired boy I have found to be this close to me. It is a calming silence.

Rupert presses his lips close to my ear, causing my scaled skin to heat, and whispers:

"Dina...

Before I presume he has nothing to add toward it and the heart inside of me burns, he adds quietly, "Do you wish to sleep tonight; or do you wish to stay awake?"

"We have..." My soft tone fits nicely beside him; small things to cherish that I can hold close to me. "um... slept for the... p-past week... c-can we stay up tonight, please?"

Warm breath coalescing unto me:

"Of course."

Each day, the nightmares that resulted after amnesia have begun slowly settling in and taking fiercer, more solid formations that refuse to leave my mind; Rupert tends to waken me from the slumber early as it begins to show on my features a-and my disturbance happens to shine a waking light on him in the midst of black night, although even those assets have begun to prolong. If I... had it as I wished, I would attempt avoiding rest as long as I could—a tactic I did indeed attempt numerous times, tending to last at least a clean, two weeks—but the golden orbs sparkling over me, of all entities, understands how unhealthy that would be and does not wish I to grow weary from continuous deprivation, as much as I wish he would allow me to break away from such wise standards. I... do not like the nightmares very much.

"Rupert..."

"Dina?" His warmth traces upon my chillier figure. My... Rupert... never seems to show any signs of discomfort from the touch I provide, the warmth I lack to give off. He seems to take pleasure in knowing that I physically, palpably feel better just being around him.

"I do. I do... feel safe. O-our lives are... much to take in, at times... b-but I do feel safe..." Because I cannot help it, I hastily tack on, "D-do you think that all of the disturbances that have happened are all connected?"

Feeling his head methodically arc up and down in the slightest nudge comforts me. "Perhaps..." A pause, one of charged emotion ready to pounce. "No... matter how dangerous these affairs may come to be, I wish to... protect you, if I can. To... understand you..." The glow of his orbs ekes out from me until I cannot feel them and presume he has looked away or perhaps closed his eyes. "You are very special to me."

Because I do not know what to say, and the words never come to me as they can toward him, I stutter some embarrassing phrase and mumble choppy blocks of letters. He does not laugh—n-never heard even a suggestion of what sort of happy sound that may be. Still, I feel... very warm... to be held by him. And it... traces a little smile on my face anyways.

At some point, I cannot tell when, my mind only able to comprehend the boy, this Rupert, he, of all others, nestled beside me: Torn rests himself by my side and comments of how weird I look now and how Rupert should hate me because I am not vivaldi-looking now, like him. How they are silvery scales, white limbs, light orange hair with the wispy bangs and the sidelong strands, the markings encircling my elbows and knees, the tip of my otherwise white tail, and all of the extra purple markings. And then he adds about how my chest is orange and attempts to use another of his strange wordings to ensnare Rupert.

 _Dina, I apologize for this now, but Torn is a true imbecile._

Somewhere in the distance, eyes shining of a faraway look into a true meaning of life, Trikko comments that _I know. I've known for a very long time. No need to repeat Torn's life purpose of idiocy._

And then I cannot help but bite a beam at that and squeak as a giggle pours out, and the warm arms hold me closer, Rupert gently stroking me and swiftly p-placing his lips over my forehead and staying by my side, even as the night only worsens. He always continues to stay. Does not... leave. He is not a stray to me, but a... permanent imprint somewhere deep down inside of me to a level I may not even understand. I think he tells me that it is okay to be scared, because he will be here for me, but I am not sure because the emotions surrounding me somewhat drain out iffy details and swarm me in this ensconced safety I doubt I could do without by now.

Only time will tell what may cross my path. At least... I will have heartwarming company, a-and they can have me.

 **Yay, deep Dina stuff! Heheh, if you couldn't tell, she's much more deep-down-feely-stuff than Dino is, who, yes, is her brother although she doesn't remember this (which I feel we've established by the end of each twin having at least one chapter all to themselves. X3) She keeps thinking about darker stuff because... well, she can't help it sometimes. Heh... Lucky for all readers who didn't know about her past situations~ There's an overview poked around in there, heheh. I trust it's not so sudden that she likes someone because she did in The Alone Champion and emotions happened so well it's not like he died at the end of the last story, oh my gosh no.**

 **Okay, I'm rambling. Here was chapter two of The Lost Fossil Fighter. Rupert and Dina are the other lovely protagonists that are part of the story. ^^**


	3. Da: I Slept with those Shadows

**Jkonna: Okay. Okay. NOW it's my turn again, diga?**

 **Me: it's not. :3**

 **Jkonna: ...awwwwwww!**

 **Me: You're in the majority of the story. Calm yourself down, child.**

 **Jkonna: buuut nooooooo**

 **Todd: STEP ASIDE, LADY, MAKE ROOM FOR THE REAL CHARACTERS!**

 **Jkonna: owo -tackles him aside-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 3: I Slept with those Shadows

 _Dina_

Drowsy thoughts prod within me, as do fingers, specific, soft ones, tapping softly toward me as if to startle me from my current state. This is... With strained effort... I can think, so I recall this is not sleep, I am simply very... detached. Oh, no; perhaps I have not gained the rest that assists in fueling me of the days after the nights I do sleep, but at times it almost feels like Rupert is attempting to persuade me to adjust and fall asleep like I should. N-not that he would... I, um, I trust him more than these troublesome thoughts suggest. Blinking harshly, shaking my head loftily side to side, removing the remnants of night and shadow, a cool morning focuses upon me. I tumble from the confines of the squishy sofa and toss my arms high above me in a stretch, yawning softly. Shifting sounds allow me to consider that Rupert has stirred as well.

My toes sift on sun-soaked wood as I wend around the oval table just out of the reach of the sofa, this dusted by an I-believe-crocheted blanket of goldenrod, to the right, at the edge of the narrow room, behind a well-maintained mattress devoid of sheets that must have either been used by vivosaurs or perhaps Rupert had achieved them, I am not sure, and face the sunlight gleaming past a vast sea of sparkling blue waves.

Drafts of warm air and an abundance of light sift through the window taking up the entire wall, so that the bursting ball of light spiraling upward easily reflects the gaze it contends upon all surrounding. Shadows, like forgotten souls, spiderweb out from every creature, alive or never to breathe and all in betwixt. Dazzling rays set my scales into a multitude of little sparkles, giving my more r-reptilian look a hint of magic. Strange to see my reflection hovering over the edge of the glass, to see this figure I am still trying to adjust toward wave a white, scaly hand when I do, to trace waves of peachy hair somewhat touched by silver, to flick a white tail tinged in a richer orange when I feel a twinge behind me. To understand, simply that: this is... me. A-and there is nothing wrong with that. Suddenly self-conscious, I turn tail and flee down the narrow hallway of an elaborate room into the great oval shape of the penthouse shouldered in wood, where a particularly tall figure resides, fingering a broad rim of a bulky hat.

Even from here, the orange curls lying from just beneath his chin are easily visible. Turning, his ruddy complexion easy to spot beneath his shaded hat with the horns and features that almost give it a face, Joe snaps a smile and warms his dark orbs. His to-the-knees black jacket straddled in brown detail flops as his arm raises and a hand waves toward me. "Dina, m'girl! Howdy!" The sunny tone warms me just like any other window, only this warmth does not hit my skin but my heart. Perhaps I have no recollection of when I was young and he had been with me, but the emotions that had been in those moments are palpable again in his own doings, and it makes them feel real: the only missing piece my forgotten past of where these had come from. It is not... too bad of a piece to miss, though; true, we still contain emotions that could have been lost but were salvaged wholly. Is that not worth missing my side of the memories?

Skipping up toward his much taller figure—I am quite short—my orbs scrutinize over him, my head bobbles. "H-hello, Joe!" These are not shouts but happy greetings. I cannot imagine a world where Joe would raise his sunny drawl at a soul. I do not know if he has it in him to shout as is. W-well... maybe he does. He probably can muster a yell if the need be.

Joe, taller as he is, raises his head and surveys the world at large through the multiple provided angles of windows. One latch has been shifted so that a breeze flies through, the scent of sea and taste of salt just on the horizon, on the rise: a wave of air to untie and expand, a ribbon floating and growing in our breeze. Gentle winds latch upon our figures. The hat suitably crowned on the mess of curls known as Joe warbles in the slight whiff. It does not leave the reign of the master all the same. However, the air does entangle shivery fingers into my hair and lift off stray waves. I sneeze once; twice. Shiver my head.

"Pff. Silly doll..." As the emotions correlate, my posture cannot help but dip at the word. "Oh, righ'. Now that yer emotions an' yer feelins have started matching up, I surpose I can' get away with calling ya that anymore, now can I? Well..." He titters in a slow, methodical manner as his gaze drags from one end of the opens windows to another. "I guess I can live with that. Maybe ya can't remember what's happened, but that callin' ya 'doll' makes ya flinch again, well, that's durn somethin'."

I skitter over the planks to hold my eyes in alignment with the adult who had been my caretaker when I was much younger, before I had reached that rite of passage, invisible and silent as was, myself. Or, at least, that is what Todd thinks. Throwing my head back in attempt of catching his swift, lingering gaze, I fall back and nearly trip upon the crunch of tail. Vivosaur tail. _Torn?_

No response. N-not Torn, o-okay then. "Um, Joe... that is very nice, bu-but..." Skittering, I take his free hand and hide behind his larger figure and stare toward the vivosaur that must host anger toward me. Instead I encounter a slight smirk of face beneath a thick, dark trunk, pierced on each side by shiny, white horns scraped of all bacteria but instead snared in jewels, of sorts. Bangles, bracelets, rings, necklaces fill the tusks. Blowing out his trumpet, the anan flaps his ears and smirks. _And who may I own the offer of thanking for them stepping on my stub of a tail? That's kind of impressive, just sayin', yo._

I blink. _Y-yo..?_ Does he perhaps mean "you?"

 _Yeah, yo. Jeeee-perrz, who is this chick, Joe-man?_

He chortles softly. _Oh, Dina, don't get so startled. That's just Nornonly. I've been watchin' over him fer a li'l while now. He's owned by a friend, but that friend's purdy wild and so it's become my duty to accept this here anan for as much time as it takes for that bloke to retrieve his poor mammalian beast. Ain't it kinda sad? Well, don't worry bout it. He's a bloke, too. They're both drivin' me up and down m'penthouse walls..._ Curls and hat shake underneath the gentle-giant laugh Joe supplies himself.

 _Wh-where are the... others?_

 _Oh, y'mean my Mith Bustin' team? Well, y'know that they're all fliers, so I'd popped open the window and let 'em take a spin. I think Nyra went out there at some poin', too, not real sure when. But Torn followed her out and nearly chucked himself into the lake until she caught him. What's his deal?_

My gaze cuts into heated wood, now brimming of the energy that the sun and the new day have given. _I do not know...He is... s-simply a strange one, I guess. He has been kindling strange jokes of Nyra lately... I am not sure if he is okay..._ Although, a sort of faraway spark in the gaze of my caretaker seems to find an understanding, deep inside, of what he might be doing. Joe has buckled decades more wisdom around his belt; if anyone would understand the motives of the hot-headed dimetro, a flash of blue scales now, in and out the door.

Switching, then, Joe barks under his tone softly: "It's jus' feelings, I'd presume. Torn has a strange affliction to Nyra, er the sort."

I squeak. "Y-yes! He does... seem to... have a strange affliction to prefer her... or... h-however it must be phrased to make sense. He does seem to give off a strange, new vibe over her. I wonder why..." Oh so casually, a snort follows up from my words and I hesitantly eye the face blooming above me. His head turns downward to face me a little easier, curls meshing and bleeding like orange colors contaminating red in the picture.

"So ya don't notice when it's in the air, e'en after feelin' the emotions yerself. Ha... silly."

Confused and somewhat more flustered and cold than I had felt prior, I turn back from Joe and from Normanly the anan to take the brunt of a cold breeze lifting fingers and pounding up into my lungs. I splutter slightly and turn back again. O-of course... My cheeks cut and red emotions flow freely to the top linings.

"Chin up, Dina. 'ts no big deal. Don't worry bout it too much. Torn's just gotta heart full'a feathers. Wish him good luck catchin' sweet love wi' _that._ Heh, but who knows, maybe we'll see some sorta change of feather." The pretense of speaking within metaphors always has intrigued and encouraged me, but now Joe is walking in circles around me, drawing chalk lines to mark me in the center of a complex arrangement I have lost all focus of. Bu-but he said to not... worry so much about it. My head rustles in the suggestion of leaves under the weather, and I turn back around to search for my other vivosaurs, when a feathered figure crested in honey-yellow coloring passes by, waving blue-striped wings toward me. I notice the allotting of scaled, mostly-bipedal vivosaurs flinging claws over sturdy edges like a neck or, if unlucky, the bottom of the foot—is that Reyna?—and it appears I am devoid of my team. The suggestion of a small, yellow-finned creature hanging over the edge proves that I am not alone in this ditching; Rupert must have lost his to the winds as well.

At least these particular breezes will always come around: Torn and the others will not permanently go. Perhaps Joe could watch over them; or they will watch over themselves? Raising a hand, I swiftly tap upon the glass in repetition and file out toward the open window, peeking over the ledge, and call out:

 _Mith!_ to the ptera, _will you watch over our vivosaurs and be assured they do not hurt themselves?_ I recall Rupert hinting that he had wanted to show me something... something that would require an absence of a certain forked-tongue talker of foul language. And perhaps this will include the others. Once a nod has been provided by the remarkable sun of a creature, whom of course she is, seeking out her bonded one—Joe—I lift a foot with the intention to turn back and abruptly spin out by the introduction of a gale.

Footsteps. Fast. Hard. _Tomp, tomp, tomp, tom—tomp tomp tomp tomptomptomptomp_

A single hand closes over my white wrist and latches upon me, taking me away from the winds that nearly had me. Once assured I am deep into the confines of the penthouse and that another wind will not blow my petite figure away, Joe snorts back toward me from where he stands. But his boots are soft-soled, like the man himself wearing them. My eyes reluctantly wander and catch sight of the boy who had just apparently come out of the room only to see me fall out of a window. "A-ah... s-sorry, Rupert..." I am... clumsy... H-heh, not exactly the best assortment of skills I have vested in me.

"It is fine. As long as you're unharmed."

"I-I am..."

He nods to a sweetly approving sort, even though I did nearly take a plunge in the waters below. It would... not be too harming, I think, although the cold might chill me and the waters might wet me and the winds might blow me around, perhaps very far away if I am not careful as I am small and easy to carry. Does that make the ocean an easy kidnapper..? Oh... oh dear... The new chill birthed in my spine soon morphs into an unhealthy affliction and I source upon the golden orbs watching over me which take me in so I suck in a breath and wrap my little arms around him, which does, so easily, provide me in a comforting warmth.

In retrospection: Rupert, unlike Joe, is not all so tall, although even his height is not very miraculous and only seems at large because of my own shortness; the one I have grown so very close to is similarly against the odds of height, although he is still spared of not being the stud I am, neither of us are a match for the superiority Joe has mustered. Except—except Pauleen; she is quite tall, not as tall as Joe, but a fighting chance in comparison to the rest of us. Her huge swoons of pink hair also assist in height assortment.

And so, beside me, I feel even more at ease with the boy who in all terms matches my height well. T-Torn always said it had to be the "boy" thing to be taller than the "girl," so he had also sounded somewhat disappointed that Nyra is taller than him now. But at the same time he does not seem to care; and Trikko debunked his theory as without logic some time ago, so he seems to feel pleasant. Now all I have to do is figure out which specific boy or girl he is accounting for in that old although hole-punched and trashed notion; it was still a curious one. All the same, it... sparks a light in my heart that Rupert and I can even share similar heights. It, honestly, further reinforces the safety that glows off from him unto me.

Latching onto him, my gaze flutters and beckons him close to me. A curious look washes over him in slight motions, a sort of searching in his gaze, his nose twitching slightly, to where I murmur softly, "Our vivosaurs seem to wish to spend their day floating around with Mith and her friends. Do you suppose... you, um, wanted to show me something, y-you had said..." Furtively, my eyes peek toward the points of his boots down below. Feeling his hand on my scaled shoulder, something begins to burn hot. I think my face. Y-yes, always my face... the blush I have grown to accept, contend and... enjoy, a little... knowing it is because of him that these feelings will occur, and that it is because of him my face fills of pinks and reds.

"Why... yes..." Faraway and nearby at the same time, his words are warmth brushed over my head, my gaze still feeling unfulfilled and staring rather intently toward the tips of his boots, which, I see, are... rather pointy. Joe has hills on his feet compared to these wicked mountains. It is what to expect from the man who must have purchased these for Rupert, although I would assume that at the same time he must have found a liking to them to still don them on each day today. "I did not think you would remember. Odd. But... yes, I would like to take you somewhere. It is... not the most particularly comforting place, but I... wanted you to be able to see it, to understand what... it was like. You had shown me what it looked like with those people who had hurt you and had allowed me to see what they once did, what was once your entire life, and I would... like to show you what was mine." His... um...

His past... His old house... would it... be? I have seen his father, who is scary and who does not not not like me. Torn has used naughty words for him in exchange for what he... er... had labeled me as, so, n-no, the father of Rupert Oyasuminasai does not particularly care for me very much. But that is okay, I think. Rupert does not... um... like him, either... Do I smile over another shared tidbit betwixt us? Perhaps this one is not the most cheerful of thoughts. Maybe I should just hold it close to myself and prevent others from seeing it.

Yes. They may not understand all that well.

That is... okay. I can understand Rupert instead, if... that makes up for it. Although that is a number pressing the hundreds of souls, that I would have to be enough for him. It... touches my heart and prods and plots a small seed in me, a sad seed, that he must go through this and only have I and the few people I have seemed to net in that can come even a little close to him, and even them, not so far.

Placing his hand protectively over my own, Rupert leads me from the penthouse without so much as a glance toward the caws flitting from windows and the shrieks of happy vivosaurs as they ride their own set of roller coasters, and if one were to ask me, perhaps the best rides... ever. It evokes a smile from me, that little notion. Todd would choke if I told him that. The mind locked below the beige cap and the brown curls firmly, firmly believes that nothing at all will ever come before this great being he sees as the "Ram Ram Raptor Ride." It is... how did he word this... a small park built inside of a jungle far out east and is apparently used for leisure sorts. And they serve a fictional food called "cotton candy" there, or so I have heard: how... surreal.

Down the elevator and through a charming sitting area, out of a wicker door and onto the conglomeration of beach, water, and rocks outside, the draft of sunshine and morning churns and bubbles and sweeps upon us. I grasp upon the boy I trust in the understanding that if the breeze picks up, at least I should not fear too much that it should lift me off. Breathing the air of new days, Rupert gently steers our motions so that we do not directly face any winds that might proffer up a gale force and cough me out into the oceans. Far above sound the screeching and calling of birds and wings, or perhaps those flying, scaled vivosaurs I have seen prior somewhere. I think Pauleen owns one. To my side, a small device I recall Rupert had stopped using after breaking free from the chains his father had sewn into him to never be removed has been opened up and gently tapped into. We all have those devices, but... Rupert had stopped using his at some point. Paleopagers, were they called? Yes, right; oops, I had... forgotten.

Curiously, I peek over to the list of numbers the boy thumbs over using his forefinger and holding the device upright, until clicking on one labeled "THE BEST MASTER OF ALL TIME EVER" the name I doubt he chose himself, the icon of a tanned male under blue spikes of hair tacked beside. He raises the device near his ear to the one by my side, so that I can listen as well; a hand presses over my mouth in my vain attempt to stay quiet.

The dial sounds. It clicks, struts, squeaks, and soon plays a strange, adventure-like song I have never heard before when an out-of-breath voice squeals through the sound and apologizes lazily as it is turned off from the background.

"Are you playing that video game my father had... bought for me? The one I discarded that you found in the trash and immediately took up?" Golden orbs narrow.

The boy stumbles over his lazy words but continues on hopefully. The meaning of some words are lost to me, although a vague outline seems to resemble what he is speaking of. Rupert and the boy who I assume has blue hair continue chatting idly for minutes to where my dear white-haired one squints and mutters that he does not have time for something and would rather we are in-and-out quickly, when a whining shriek erupts and the device is taken aback into my fingers suddenly. He directs me to place the receiver toward my ear, to which a yell provokes and I squeak, tearing it back some.

"Ohh, yeeaah! I hear ya! I heard ya! It's legit Dina, right? Not just Rupert finding a recording somewhere cuz he doesn't want to let me get so close to hearing you since he's busy and all that—riiight?" Chilled and summery, sweet and bitter, this character seems... accustomed to Rupert.

Pausing, I squeak again. "I.. u-um... I do not... m-mean to be rude, but u-um.. is the... B-Best Master of All Time Ever... y-your name?" I wince and wait for the boisterous, loud, but lax reply.

And out it comes. "Whaaaat? Rupert didn't change my name on his Paleopager? Aww, that's awesome! I feel so accomplished now for him to even just keep it there a little while. Man, that's great." An awkward pause. Static. "Oh oh. But you were wondering if that—nooo, that's not my name! Ha, you're a hoot, Dina! Uh, the name's Luk. Like loooooooook over there, it's Luk! Sorta. Kinda. More like good luck, Luk. Well, you get the general idea." I nod a little avidly to his protrusion, only to remember that he cannot see me right now, and yet he... seems so accustomed to me, or my voice, in the least, as if I must be right there beside him, whispering into his ear.

Having taken it in my right hand, Rupert does not change his positions but silently listens to the words that have begun to make sense from this boy Luk. "Sooo anyways, I guess you've had a pretty craazy life so far, ey? I mean, why else would Rupert go for you? He'd never eeeever look for some normal bland girl who's got nothing to offer, amirite? He's tooootally gotta have the one with the best—"

"Hush."

Any dialogue that had been about to permeate through my ears and into my mind has ceased. "You're no fun, Rupert. Booo-riiing! But fine. I'll be a good boy." A shuffling noise itches my ear, even from the distance I have thrust out the device as to not hear Luk too loudly, as if to signify that his attention has returned to the tiny occupant he had been asking for in the first place. "So Dina. You must be a pretty great gal if Rupert can even stand you. Not even I'm really liked by him; and I know, it's so dumb! It's soo craazy! But I guess for now you're the only person he's let in RUPERT PLEASE LET ME IN I WANT TO BE—"

"Luk." The tone of his voice suggests he is about to disconnect with the boy, not unlike how he had done when Todd became more or less... irritating? I would rather Rupert to feel happiness than ridiculed and peeved by the actions and suggestions of other people. In a cold amass of breath, Rupert searched the aquamarine gaze of the sky as if to ask why him. Eventually, Luk continues down his rickety-train path anyways.

"Hmm... while I get the chance to ask you anything as Rupert spaces out... what-should-I-assssk." He draws out the final word in one long, cryptic breath, then drops it off under a _clump_ of a k. "Ooh. Ooooooh! How's Mistress been? Is she still trying to get Rupert to be happy or is he doing okay now?" Not expecting a serious and concerned thought, I stutter over it.

But he... My gaze draws and lingers upon the boy I have gotten to know quite well over this time. His golden orbs seeping into the pale blue sky above; hands pressed open into atmosphere; white hair gently blown just the idlest in the wind. While he appears picturesque to me, I must... not be so well. Tangles. Hair. Ah... "U-um... I think he is happy. He... looks like he is, much of the time..."

Bristly hairs stitch over the speaker to suggest he has nodded to this. "Great, great. Has he, like, smiled at all..? He hasn't smiled since he was like a toddler and bad things hadn't really been obvious yet, mom hadn't died, all that good stuff. I was there around then, too. But he kind of stopped smiling so you know it's been a pretty serious amount of time since... all that. Is he smiling at all?"

"Um..." I pertain the ability to answer this one directly. Because I know this. I have seen this. "N-no... but his eyes glow very brightly... I-it might not sound l-like much, L-Luk, b-but it is. Hi-his eyes were... very dull... a-as if he had almost given up... o-or felt sad o-or s-some...th-th-thing... a-and now he looks much happier s-so..." I give up. The stutter is cracking into me.

A pause. The race in my heart suggests—is he—surprised? "Wow, that's super great news! Maybe he'll like smile soon! Wowzers, that's awesome. I know I keep messing around when he's actually paying close attention, but that's serious and... I really do get real worried about him. I'd flown the helicopter when he was dropped off and all that because his dad lets me do that sometimes for some really great reason. And... well, yeah. I get you. He wasn't feeling it... like he was losing i—I DON'T LIKE TO THINK ABOUT IT. HE'S ALL GOOD. END OF STORY."

Hearing of chewed up and screeched words, Rupert stirs again and eyes the Paleopager yanked as far as I can from reach. He must determine that the boy has yelled again; whether he sees it or not, p-probably does, the noise is causing me to... quake, somewhat. Luk seems like a chipper boy who I would enjoy to come around and know, b-but his voice...

"Hey Dina? I got another question." Somehow his banter has flown, as if he knows the white-haired boy is observant again and vividly painting every word of his into the scheme behind it. So now there seems to be no scheme. It must be a difficult job for Luk to seem to live in that same house where Rupert has been, perhaps taking orders from the father, under the sunglasses himself, chiseling icy words into a boy until all of his warmth seems to have evaporated and being able to do nothing of the sort against it because what can he do? He is controlled, too. And he... still is.

"Dina. Dina. Say something. It's creepy. You shut up."

"A-ah, I am sorry..."

"Pff. You're juuuust like Rupert.

"Have you done it?"

"D-done what?"

"Done _it?_ "

"D-d-done... wh-what?"

"Done ii _iiiii—_ "

Swiped out of my still warm fingers, the device stays in the hands of the owner as Rupert shakes his head brusquely at it and thumbs the power off. Golden orbs chafe and fleck against the hard surface as he pockets it inside of a fluffy section in the white of his pants. Shaking his head, one of his hands reaches out and squeezes mine slightly as he sighs. "That boy..." Sensing my stiffness sends a quick glance my way; his pale head peers in a distant, faraway glance as he watches over me. "He has lived as a servant-boy for my father in his... mansion. I grew up around him quite regularly; his presence was never far behind ours. He is... a pest." A blink. Inside are feelings that cannot quite be understood. "You are not a pest, Dina." And he leaves it to that, and I do not ask him to continue on.

While, for me, I suppose having memories at all effects my giddiness, he has... gone through a lot as well, and it is not as if a blank shaft of amnesia blocks out the mystery at the start; from sprout to the start of a great tree—the start of a great tree that may have wilted via the extreme conditions it grew in. Of course he does not wish to consider them; even Mistress, his mapo queen he has had from close to the beginning, was not released for his inner feelings. Lonely. For him it was... lonely. Cold. Dark. Fragile. Scary. _Lonely._ Because of Torn, because of Todd, when he realized, I was not... lonely. Moments pass; I squeeze his hand back.

Biting my lip, I mumble, "Thank you for... explaining all that you do, for me... t-to understand..." Hidden in my peripheral vision he does nod, his sunny yellow orbs do glow, and they are kinder and prettier than a gem. Now that Torn has lost his eye color for a rosy quartz, he is the only one I know of yellow orbs, other than his cousin.

"Of course, Dina." I stay near him. The sun blares brightly. "Luk is coming to...pick us up in the helicopter. I wanted to show you something... while my father has gone missing. We remain unsure of... where that... creature... may be, although I am sure he has not... passed away as of yet. I will... be okay, as long as... you are here." He shakes his head, then; whether or not he is blushing now I cannot tell. S-sneaky..? Or perhaps he still has... not adjusted to the notion of another person beside him, e-even if they are not vivaldi technically b-but just wh-whatever I-I am, does it feel weird for him to have a sense of ease telling me these things? B-but I guess that is mostly a happy thing, th-that he feels safe over if it if we-weird or not.

As long as... I am here... W-well... I do not intend on... leaving, Rupert.

When my eyes raise again from the sandy shores we stand on together, the sun has nigh blotted out the world by a vague, shifting mechanism silently lumbering across the skies. Light does not hit us now; a shadow casts and controls over our frozen figures. Face heating up, I reluctantly tap toward the boy to my side, who raises our joined hands and points a finger toward the monstrous th-thing above: is he... waving, now? A-all in all, this strange mechanism, if that is what it is because I think the sun is not supposed to stop working li-like that, lands in poufs and whorls of sand spewing across to show off this existence; it does not crash into the tall tower Joe lives inside of along with us so I presume these are not... scary things. Is it... a good thing..?

 _Kkchhhhh.._.

Steam releases and roils as an indention pops open from somewhat high above: slightly taller than me, when I cup a hand over my head and trace toward the... opening. Laying flat out, the sort of pad seems to beckon for a soul to scramble upon it, but it is tall, perhaps five feet tall, and I am not even that tall on my own, Rupert just over, and... how do we... g-get i-in... if that is what we are doing? O-oh no, what if these are actually a-aliens or something? A-and what would they do at us? Would they do what Luk had been trying to tell me? _W-was he warning me?_ Aa-ah...

Glancing a quick swipe at the mechanism, Rupert drops his hands to cup them around my face and swiftly part his lips and trace them against my forehead after flicking away my bangs, to which he smooths them back down and turns back around when another sound loudly reverberates and a neat packet of rung-on-rung parallel machinery spills out and lands with _thufft_ in the sand. Yellow orbs glance toward me, then up to the pad, as if to suggest I should go first... "U-um..."

Shaky hands push on cooling metal which nearly succeeds in calming my new burst of nerves. Inhale... breath in, breathe out, I shove myself up and over and loop across and clamber past the chilly material so I do not have to stay here for so long or block out Rupert and his moving and it is already over and I collapse in a shivering heap on the cottony pad. A fresh, tan hand reaches out toward me, the darker skin rubbing against my white scales. I wince as his vision cuts across me, one of sharp, insightful hazel orbs. Sticking his tongue through the side of his mouth, the other hand brushes spikes of blue hair and bangs out of his vision. "Huh. So you're the girl who got Rupert so craaaaazy that he's actually learing how to live. Wow. Sort of what I was expecting."

I blink.

"Y-you know what I..." No... that does not... "Never mind.."

"And your voice! It's soooo soooooft! It's like I could reach out and hug silk when you taaaallk! But I won't because I can't actually do that, so no worries, I won't hug you. Especially while Rupert's around. He'd probably get all jealous and make sure no one gets close to you. Hah. I bet he never lets you outta his sight." My ears almost singe from the amount of words this boy is using all at once and at such volume. A stray hand of his, after releasing mine, plucks at a red band I notice encircling his head, this studded with a small pair of shining glass, to which I presume must make well-enough fashioned goggles. He wears an interesting sort of clothing upon him: red bow tie topping it all off first, fancied, orange jacket that seems to be gilded by perhaps gold and buttoned with what might be rubies, his pants a candy-cane-striped fluff that, unlike the ones Rupert wears, are puffy all over and not only in the top area. His shoes seem to be... missing? "Oh, yeah, I decided not to wear shoes since you don't. I get points for that, right?"

Rupert, who has caught up to us as of now, lifts himself and looks toward the servant-boy he must have known for just the cusp of all of his life: for forever, almost. I am just the opposite; and yet he finds such... ease in staying with me... His yellow orbs pierce Luk and he murmurs, "Why did you pester Dina so profusely..."

"I can't believe how much you care for this girl. I am going to start bawling on the way home." It is not something I have easily noticed prior and I do still miss it at times even now, but a tiny shift in posture allows me to see how uncomfortable the white-haired boy feels for that word. "Home." Does he... consider he has one? Or does he simply dislike the thought of labeling the mansion I have heard such amply crippled stories just from the doorstep of, the notion that this labyrinth was supposed to be where he felt safe.

If he does not like it... why does he wish to take me..?

Quickly Rupert responds. "Do not 'bawl' on the way. You will not see the piloting in front of you and surely will kill us. I would rather... you refrained from harming one of the people who has joined us." No one looks at me; I feel as if their gazes are burning and they understand thi-this... it is me... is it... not... E-embarrassing... "It took me this long to trust you to keep her safe as well..." Y-yep. That is me. None of the vivaldi standing in front of me are female, s-so that is me... s-so e-e-embarrassing... a-ah...

N-not that it is not nice to know he c-cares for me... i-it... it is...

A hand gently rests by mine and warms me as I cup it and tangle my own fingers within it. Immediate hazel eyes slap at the connection and his face pinks as he giddily squeals, turning back and strutting into the highly-technological software, to which we follow. The inside of the plane, devoid of cushions of other seating arrangements and leaving metal frames to sit on, the cushions to protect one from the cold darkness torn away and left barren: did Rupert... live like this? Without the warmth of another to in the most least as it could, see his... eyes glow, twinkle, so brightly? Is it this that enforced the dimming, the ebbing of life inside of him? These sorts of statements proved as... l-life alone... scattered about within and without, throughout him, missing the casual warmness others have always orbited around freely: they had broken him down, surely. I-if only I... h-had something for him to... I-if only I had a... bl-blanket or something in this dreary black basin of shadow and empty machinery that sounds as if it is alive but ticks and tocks so mechanically, so menacingly, to only further reinforce his loneliness.

I wrap my little arms tight around him and squeeze him betwixt my weaker, smaller self, resting my head to his shoulder and staying there. B-because he does not... deserve any of this... N-no one deserves any of this... so why did he live inside of it for so long—why did he have to... Rupert... to see one, you, who means this much to me, be lied waste to these sorts of objects not only here but in all spaces imaginable...

"Dina..." His words are soft and all-consuming against my ear: a comfort I soon succumb for. "You understand..." A pause. His breath flits against me; where it touches draws a feeling of hopefulness in me... H-he is okay... n-now... "Of course you understand... who else..."

We stay like that. It does not matter if Luk sees us flicking his head back to check all doors have been returned to their sealed positions. It does not matter if Luk notices how tightly I hug him or senses that emotions may be leaking in a form from my eyes. It does not matter if Luk questions why we have gone silent, or worries and attempts to check up on us until the helicopter demands his attention with the fierce roar it cannot contain which scares me unlike Torn or any of the others. I want to... stay with Rupert...

At some point awkwardly and unkindly wedged betwixt moments of time, a sputtering noise kicks in like Torn might if he could see me right now, and while I feel a tug in my heart to know that he and Nyra and Reyna and Aladee and Trikko are not quite flying fists, he cannot tell that it is also beating repeatedly and stomping in my chest to a swift, endless tune that threatens to unravel my breath away.

Slouching over cracked and fragmented, sloping and fermented rocks crunched into what appears to be a valley, do I dare glance out of the windows that have not been too malformed, surrounded in hope-crushing spines of rocks, boulders, crumbly structures of the sort that only bloom and grow in ponderousness until seemingly taking up all the eye can see, until reaching the peak of the conjunction of steep hills, and there, loping off in flat, soft, snowy lands, stays freedom, so far out of reach not a bud of hope could even attempt to seed in: they would fall out simultaneously; the ring of treacherous rock is endless.

My grip on Rupert, rearranged to where my arms snuggle close to his, wrapping tightly around his left as I stay close beside him, only tightens in each passing second, as my gaze shoos faster and the reality slowly dips into me. This is where he lived. This is where he lived. This is where he made his home, all on his own, with not a speck of light inside of him: trapped, useless, cold: lonely. My breaths pillow him, my eyes filling him, my fingers cupping him, unable to look away with this rancid, old, mildewy fear scraped deep in. I-I suppose I do understand... in a way...

Once eyes dig into the structure we are to sift inside of, nested deep within the cracks of the valley, open air and sky hitting us and snow unable to join us, it never quite managing to cover the rocks leading down and craft a save exit for a lost and lonely little boy to escape; all I can see is the shining of metal and the slimy taste of gold in the back of my mouth. Using a fortune, he had wound himself this nest to hatch his foul plans and ideas to slew his son using, to puppet him and use him for more more gain, until his home has been crowned and yet he lusts for more. The winding pathway toward this structure is musty and smells of old, shod scales, hardened vines of trees stabbing through the earth here and there: obviously without life in their poor veins. Dry of tears, dry by the blinding, stifling sight of all I have delved into, purple eyes eke of what feels like a slurred, poisonous fluid within.

Feet that stutter on each step somehow find their way to the front door which must crook and shy open for a grand hall that hides the darkness in tightly-knit corners a guest could not find. This is where h-h-he, Rupert, has spent all of his life unless at a tourney as enforced by his father. Until... now, I suppose.

His eyes search and find mine. I did not know I was quivering until his hand searched and took mine. "Ah..." He gently shakes his head. "If you wish... we do not have to go in. Luk could... take us back from here. You are scared." Words chip inside of me. Although feeling slightly raw, my voice, when I attempt it, seems ready enough to word.

"N-no... It is fine... Y-you have something to show me, d-do you not?" Bundling up any stray bits of courage I may still have after confronting darker beings like Zongazonga prior, I step closer to the boy dressed in richly red. "Then... I am fine. I am fine. I want to... g-go with you..."

Silence. Warming orbs find me again, gently hold me. No more words are uttered; his presence alone fuels me, and as his black-gloved fingers reach for the tiny, bedazzled and curvy sort of knob that will show the both of us to what he may be searching for. I notice that, in these hesitating seconds ready to move but not quite yet, it would feel brighter if Torn had come with us anyways. His fiery soul, whether dressed in red or blue skin, heats and fills my days in a sort of kindling like that of a warm hearth gathered around in chilly times. And now it... might perhaps alight Rupert as well... o-or perhaps not. Even now, as I eye his golden soul as he is poised to pry open his old chambers where he was lost and alone, perhaps going insane, his heart turning to stone, there is this warmth encircling him now, that I had not recognized when we first met.

His one hand tugging on the doors of shadows where he had been drowned out, the other locked upon me, the unnaturally tall, creaking, elaborate diamond door lined by quartz and amethyst file outward for us, and we let ourselves into a sightless hallway, the holders for candles all waiting but without fire. Vivosaurs could light and allow the wax to burn, the warmth to occur, but... he may... notice us. His father. Whenever he returns. My eyes glaze as they try to hold onto fragments of this torture house, all I can see it as, and details spin out of me because I cannot even hold them in.

Doorways pass. Hallways pass. Great corridors built wholly out of glass or metal or elaborate carvings pass as well: without order or method, just unpredictably expensive goods passing in the blink of the eye around me in a messy, spinning swirl of sickly color. My head throbs at times in the attempt to imagine what sort of unspeakable things happened behind one suit of pure pearl armor, or below a just-slightly-bent chandelier hanging almost perpendicular from the ceiling, what suspicious splotches of color might mean, until the most overlooked wing of this entire castle of a mansion is passed, and ducked indoors, Rupert then hesitates. He jolts, comes to a stop, intakes a small breath. He had asked if I wanted to stop, but he did not hesitate.

"Dina..." His eyes meet mine again, his hands holding me tightly. "I am... about to walk through the final hallway to enter my... chambers, if you will. I did not spend... all of my time in there." His orbs dim the slightest; moments pass; he meets my gaze and soon they glow again. "I told you how my... father killed my mother. I am not sure if I told you that he... never cleaned up what he did. I have tried prior, when I grew older, to free her body from the mess, but even now I... am unable. You can close your eyes as we pass here. I do not wish for you to see such a... sight." His final word is soft and flits from him quickly, like his hope must have, if he ever had any.

It feels strange to think that he stayed here and would still be here, perhaps mindless and lifeless by now, i-if I had not come along and... d-did wh-whatever I had done to resolve with this. Now... now... what will I do? Wh-what will I... do... I would presume by his gaze that as thankful as he is that I have come... h-he does not...wish for me to see what he has witnessed for so long. "U-um... I want to... react toward this how you would request me to."

"Ah..." For a moment his gaze flickers away, a flame lost in joy, then returns just as fast as it had gone. "Thank you... But please, spare yourself from this. Close your eyes..."

Because he means so very much to me, and I trust him more than I have unto another soul, and I can feel the sincerity in his tone, I do shut my eyes. There is no hesitation inside of him as his hand knots with mine and he safely takes me past a long line of forward motion, so that I cannot tell if we have passed anything at all, only aware because he told me, and there is a creaking, like a door opening, and he whispers, "You may open them."

I did not expect much when my orbs unsealed, nor do I as they rub off on what Rupert has taken me to, although a small knot that had been in me, worry or tension, has dissolved. It is a simple chambers, so easy one could not tell that the soul who slept here had lived with naught but the shadows for a long time, even with brushes of stirrings from a mother before her unfortunate, horrid death, and after those trickled visits or attempts via Luk or perhaps his cousin or grandfather: Dinu or Professor Nigel Scatterly. Maybe a little bit.

Ignoring the sparks of palpable richness, as if a prince only locked by the darkness that feeds him, it is particularly natural: kingly bedspread with the gold-lined canopy sparkling so brightly I wonder how he found any dreams of rest in there; I personally would love that sort of bedding, to be unable to rest in it and ward off my nightmares would be absolutely fantastic; a wooden and onyx-inlaid desk area, small books propped up toward it; a window filled of the sight of cracked loss and darkness, no blinds or curtains to block out the clear message; a small door leading outwards into what must be a closet where clothing is kept as well as other belongings. But not vivosaurs. Rupert told me that his father always found his vivosaurs, all but Mistress, oddly enough; apparently his mother had given her to him. Perhaps it has to... do with that?

"Um... Rupert..?" I ask for him, spinning in a slow, gentle circle as I walk, only looking over the same things again and again. "What is it you wanted to... show me..?"

"Ah..." His eyes find the simplest door I have seen in this entire mansion, one of oak wood and only painted in a slight mix of I think clear, shiny diamond. "It is—oh." Again. The closet. "If you were curious, the clothes I always don were a... sneaky sort of gift from Dinu. She and Scatterly had bought me these at some time, she attempting to choose what I might like, and we had received them. I suppose my... er... father... allowed me to use them because he saw how hopeless my situation still stood. And... I like these clothing. Dinu chose...well enough, I suppose." Gently shaking his head, he returns to the question I had given him. "Here... let me... show you."

I glance down.

A hand, pale and removed of the glove it usually cloaked in, lay waiting for me to take it. Even as I do, I glimpse the strange, old lines that seem to have been gouged in a time ago but unwillingly did not heal. He catches my eye. "I do not know where those came from. They... have begun to heal now... as... oddly as it may seem." His soft tone fluttering around me, his words holding me, even through this strange, elder darkness, he leads me toward the window and places my hand to as far up as my tiny form can reach, to where I am even standing on the very tips of my toes. Without pressing himself so high, his own hand can reach where I have.

Here I notice that the window is deliberately portioned so that only the slightest mush of snow can be seen. The outside world: right there, impossible to grab. I am basically touching wasteland through here.

Catching on to my discouragement, he shakes his head slightly. "No, Dina. You did not bring me there. I... met you there, I suppose." We had met and lived on a small island where other fossil fighters stayed through that last tournament for our islands of Caliosteo. Ilium. None else dared rest in the chilly confines, but he had been there, and my foster mother disliked the cold so she purposely portioned me in that station while Todd stayed in a breezier, lush, green climate of Ribular Island. "Only I was not free... I never was free, even in the outside world, when my... father took me there and had me battle for more of his money, more of his fame. Prodigy." The word is spat.

"No... but I was not free... I was almost gone, by then. Perhaps it was the incredulous fact that you did not know who I am in a world where all else saw me as a starry-eyed prodigy. Perhaps it was your gentle and hesitant personality, curious but unsure how to move on. Perhaps it was the fact that you had left your bed in tatters when you had gone, and it was not even you who used the blankets but Trikko, and I had felt it obligatory to clean the sheets after your pesky vivosaur. Still pesky..." Even under the pretense of such a word, his eyes glow. Or perhaps it is... more than that. "Either way... you... saved me from this. You..." A gentle tap of my hand, which has scooted down slightly because I could not keep my hold so high. "Blocked it all out... and you saved me. Thank you... for that... Dina. I never wish to... lose you... now that I have found you.

He glances away. "That is all..."

I cannot help it. "Eheh..." My heart swells inside of me and the weight causes me to totter, slamming against the one I hold dear to me as I stutter and attempt to step back until his arms crisscross around me and he is keeping me close to him either way, his golden orbs watching over me. "You make me smile, Rupert..." Orange waves of hair are stroked into place by one of his hands as his orbs simply glow upon me, and the warmth fills me. One day... I am sure... he will smile. Not yet, but... one day. "It... makes me even happier... to share these... f-feelings with you.. and know that you feel the same a-about me..."

"Of course." All words are lost from my lips as his meet them, and an overpowering swooning in my chest, in my heart, all of this warmth and happiness and joy and peace and kindness and proof that there are certainly very kind emotions out there that I wish to always capture here, but not with anyone else but... but Rupert... to only spend as much time with him as I can and to see him, to feel the warmth in him, to... see him smile, o-one day, to hear him laugh, o-one day, to be there, either way... whether he does smile again or not... after all that happened to him...

A-are there any words... a-any words at all... th-that can describe this sort of emotion?

Whether or not I was on the verge of something great, it all is lost again as Rupert gently places a hand on my cheek, then, holding it back in front of me, asks me to show him where my... heart is.

He will feel h-how much it beats r-r-right n-now... ohr-r-r... Rupert... a-ah... u-u-um...

Somewhere below the orange on my body I point in a throbbing section burning with heat and this strange, sweet emotion for him alone where not his hand is placed but he lowers his head and I-I feel his soft, white hair brush up against the silvery skin below, where he whispers, there, his one hand gently touching the spot and I know, I know he now sees just how emotional it gets me, t-to be with him, "Your heart, Dina... is so kind...

"Why was I... given this kindness..? I... could never figure why, but I... cannot be without it."

I overflow. This emotion for him, all for him, the feelings locked inside of me bursting out because he shares them alongside me, this joy it brings, the warmth inside of me because of him, all comes crashing in me as his words ebb and his lips cross over it, over my heart, and I, once again, have lost all words. He feels it too, I know, he feels all of this, all of these wonderful feelings that I feel too, and his head raises and I sink into his arms and snuggle closely to him, entangled within his red-clothed arms, cuffs of blue cupping me and holding me, and the feelings within that fill me.

Within the enrapture that has taken us, I do not hear them until they are panting just in front of us, the door screams to a halt behind them, and their footsteps have all but ebbed. Rupert, better at acting orderly in front of others, abruptly lifts me in front of him as we both raise and quickly his hand takes mine, still linked in that single way, and I feel this happiness connecting through us by our held hands together. As d-dumb as it sounds... it... i-it is okay... to be like this... instead of vivaldi...

In billows to-the-shoulders of blonde hair capped by a strangely-knitted headband backgrounded in black fabric, her jacket of beige filled in puffs that tie it together floating in her momentum, her rough pants scraping over the elaborate material. Dinu recovers from her quick fall and wipes a hand over her crisp, darkening forehead, a small showing of blonde bangs visible as they stick out of the headband. "Gahk." Cold voice out there, her golden orbs thicken as she turns her head back. "Scatterly! Can you run any faster! Don't you know how _important this is!_ "

Something faint and bumbling can be detected from behind.

A booted, pointed-not-sloped shoe taps impatiently against the ground. Hands fold over one another. "Faster, fool," she grumbles. Although he is her grandfather and legal caretaker, Dinu does not display much affection openly.

Soon the dark-haired male of portly standards careens through the door, nearly falling over, and recovers smoothly enough. "Dinu, my dear, I realized that we forgot to take the slablets!"

"Of course we did." Stifling her lip, she pushes hot air into a sound. Her groan ebbs when she adds on: "But you memorized them."

"Oh, yes yes, I did! I simply love Caliosteo slablets!" Portly, chipper, dressed in similar, jacketed, beige attire, a cap is procured from the head and then propped back on as glasses are adjusted and the man faces us. "Oh, hello, lads and wot! Rupert, grandson, er, I see you're here with Dina. Thank _goodness_ Dinu was right when she saw that fancy helicopter leaving the penthouse and assumed we'd go the right way if we got Luk for us as well. Oh, deaaar, I'm tired from the running!" _Boooomph._ He falls more than sits but appears satisfied.

Dinu snorts, following suit.

Rupert, sharing a glance with me, gently moves toward the carpeted ground as well, to which I follow eagerly and too quickly and land a little loudly. His gaze glows warm on me until his grandfather, Professor Scatterly, speaks again.

"Dina," he crows, all three pairs of orbs, two yellow and one purple, landing upon him like a spotlight, "we're all in danger, lass!" Leaving no room for consideration or perhaps worry, I do not know how to feel and blink rather stupidly. "See, it's that—"

"Uuugh. Grandfather. Grandfather!" She snaps her fingers until the ramble of his dies off. "GRANDFATHER, LISTEN!" There his gaze hits her like a stone. "We don't know if there's any danger yet. It might not be bad at all, so quit sounding so dramatic or you'll scare Dina off!" It is almost terrifying how well she knows me. "So make it easy. Just state what we know and read the fifth slablet already. Hmmmph." Her tongue, a pink blob, is made out against him like a taunt.

He does not respond to it but chortles, pulling out the stone slab of graying tablet. "Well, we did figure out her whole nightmares thing, so maybe it is bad. Most likely, at least, old bean!" The slablets... they... they are what I believe have to do with ancient writing on old artifacts of an elder person who had written a detailed account on the ancient himself, Zongazonga, when he had been alive prior to his first fossilization, or any of the others, and how the people had stopped his possessions and pillaging, a-and... killing, t-too. In reading those scriptures we had found the beast reclaimed inside of Joe and had had to... take his soul o-out, s-so that Joe could return to his body, only for it to... take over Rupert... B-but we had stopped him. Y-yes. W-w-we had.

So why are we... bringing up his t-topic again..?

"Dear lassie, I'm not sure if you recall so far back, but there was also, in one of the slablets I didn't find until the end so the story was a liittle out of whack, do I say so myself, that there was some sort of 'wisp' that had tried to stop the ancient pest before any other tactics had come in and stopped him once and for all. And, well, this happens to give a more detailed account about her. Since it has come to my attention that you're illiterate and, unfortunate, unfortunate, reading isn't your forte, I decided maybe I should paraphrase this time." A meaningful glance first toward his grandson, then the granddaughter follows suit. His dark points of orbs seem to try at a friendly wink, to which Dinu groans again.

"Basically, it's worded that some sort of girl, a wisp, I guess, at that time, had tried to stop him too. Only, well, it wasn't just a wisp; she'd been an ancient, too, at some point; and in fact his daughter. How... I don't want to think about it okay great moving on~ Either way, lad and lassies, she had existed until he... apparently hindered her so well that she couldn't even hold her ancient form any longer. So she'd fled apparently to the stars... and... judging by all these extra notes from other generations who'd figured out more about her... hrr—she fed off of old memories when she became depressed and caused nightmares to others in times of pain.

"Now, _Dinu, here,_ thinks that she doesn't have to be _evil_. But, well, you see, Dina, these all—"

He stops because a hand slaps against his mouth, because yellow, sharp orbs had caught and seen my sudden paling.

He wanted to tell me that "But, well, you see, Dina, these all are factors that relate to you, so therefore we have come to determine that she must be inside of you."

I do not... wh-what do I... what do I say to... that..? What does it mean, i-if an a-ancient is l-living in-inside of me-e..? Th-they will... takeme...me over... l-like Zongazonga... surely... Is this why when I heard his name I grew tense? Is this why when he yearned for my own body for strange reasons I do not understand he told me he would have to wait? My a-amnesia? The nightmares? The... Huricans..? M-maybe..?

Because I do not know what else I could possibly do with this new information, I whisper in a little voice in the back of my head: _Wh-who are you..?_

And the scariest part is when it answers in a just-as-little response:

 _Zoazoa._

 **So... well. Isn't that fun. Two new characters in one chapter.**

 **Luk: I'm not thaaat newww! Not to Ruuupyy!**

 **Rupert: … =_= Do not call me that.**

 **Torn: -HOLY SHIT GET THAT DEMON SPIT OUT OF DINA.-**

 **Me: poor Zoazoa ;w;**

 **Torn: -I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PERVERTED ONE.- glares at Luk**

 **Oh, by the way, Luk is pronounced like Luck. XD I at first wanted to name him Luke but... I like this more, haha.**


	4. Ja: No Pits of Darkness Please

**Jkonna: okay, okay, now—**

 **Me: You should stop asking. It's not like the voice in my head labeled Jkonna can convince me to write about her when I have other characters and other roles to define. I mean yeah you're the main character but we haven't even gotten one POV of Rupert yet now have we?  
**

 **Jkonna: CHAPTER FOUR. LET ME BE IN IT.**

 **Rupert: =_=**

 **Dino: Yeah, I know. She's spoiled.**

 **Jkonna: I AM NOT SPOILED I JUST WANNA BE IN THE CHAPTER CAN I JUST HAVE THAT ONE THING**

 **Me: You're the main character already—**

 **Jkonna: THEN PROVE IT, DIGADIG**

 **Me: owo NotlikeIwasalreadyplanningtogivethistoyou haaaa**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 4: No Pits of Darkness Please

 _Jkonna_

"Hrrrr... so... so that one—that one— _that one's_ gotta be... uh... who diga-did diga-Dino say—uncle... uh... Illovie? But even though, diga, there's ells, it's pronounced like a 'wy' or something? Iyyyoviee? Diga-dang, why diga-does that name sound so confusing and impossible, digadig. No—man, why is this entire _mural_ so diga-darn impossible? It's like it's out there to kill me so I can hardly even comprehend these names written in an entirely diga-different language!" Because I diga-don't really have anger issues but this is the perfect excuse, my toe slaps against the rock carving embedded in this entire wall. Because it's so huge, no cracks split up in the image; instead, I just managed to hurt myself. "OW!" Hesitantly, like the world will end if my toe comes crashing down on the starship, my entire mud-bottom of a left foot makes this huge, hesitant scramble, slowly ticking ticking until it slaps onto land again.

Ooh. Bad idea. "OW OW OW! DIIIGGAAAAAAAAA!" More stamping. Bad bad—stamp—baaaad idea. Because it's a better idea, I surge over and land on my butt. At least now, if I hold my position perfectly, I diga-don't diga-disturb my evil toe. Why diga-did it have to go against me? We were friends, once; colleagues, even. Why must it come to this?

Awkwardly, to emphasize my point, I scoot on the ground and hobble with my one not horrible foot not currently in pain over like a paddling boat to a spotlight, which catches my way too long strands of fiery hair arcing all the way diga-down to my feet but it's hard to tell right now since I'm sitting on a lot of it. Other straight but sorta soft pieces flick over me and cover my face so that I sneeze some while others spew and stick over my toga, blending into the tiny sewn-in red beads I diga-dunno if diga-Dino's even noticed. Kind of hard to see. But I diga-don't mind. Makes them feel secretive and special, like only the Digadig Tribe knows about it and therefore it's a well-hidden, long-term secret. Spooky, I know. I couldn't take diga-down Bliss with that kind of information, but it's still kinda cool.

 _Is Jkonna done blubbering or should I help you with your suffering?_ And there she is. Not being a digadig since she was vivosaur-in-medal first, Bliss the acro in all of her dusty, yellow-looking glory, shaking out her spine-stuck back because she took a nap or something and she only shakes her back like that after a nap, turns creepily hazel eyes on me. _Of course, I don't really mind either way, so go ahead and tell me—today._

 _Please stop rhyming. It's killing me._

 _Of course it's killing you, dear Foster!_

 _Yes you sto—_

 _You're the only male, so it's like a 'lost her!'_

 _Noooo... Spare me, Jkonna, spare me from this cruel affair._ Foster happens to be a finned idiot pest who's really good at crushing roses. He does that a lot when we're out swimming or something. By his long neck and sort of gigantic eyeballs, you'd think this swimming buffoon would get it by now; but no, I'm almost completely sure he does that on purpose anyways. Just—swims off into the sunset, casually munching on thorns and petals. Sometimes I worry he'll meet that one friend of mine Rosetta—Rosie—Richmond, although Rosetta's more fun to say because it almost rhymes with Jkonna, or so said Bliss, although I guess Rosie's okay too. I think diga-Dino forgot that her name's actually Rosetta, and that's the only reason he calls her by the nickname she shoved up his throat.

Soon as the sarcasm is mostly diga-drained from freaking Foster, I glance back up at the mural, as it's called. Probably the best thing on this entire starship, carved from lots of a strange, hard, brown rock I've never seen prior to meeting this beautiful creature, here sits the carved odyssey of the lives of not only the royal family of the diga-dinaurians that are diga-Dino and his family that's mostly not diga-dead we think not halfway, but also the names of all of the ones that have passed away or the ones that are here today.

See, a gigantic, creepy monster planet-eater thingy called Guhnash showed up and ate their planet, so then the diga-dinaurians fled to space, then the diga-dinaurians tried to send diga-down diga-dinaurian seeds to make their diga-dinaurian species again, then the diga-dinaurians diga-did this stone sleep thing where they get turned to stone for like a million years until the seeds were supposed to germinate or something garden-y I wouldn't bother to understand, but then they realized they had made us.

And also diga-Dino and his sister had fled to the world because I diga-don't really know they're stupid and thought it'd help.

So anyways at some point Guhnash showed up again and tried to eat our world too. Thank goodness he thought we tasted terrible—no, I'm kidding, we're not inside of a space monster or anything. Diga-Dino diga-did stuff so it's all good. But then one of his two girlfriends turned to stone so it's not completely all good, but I'd say we got pretty diga-darn close.

I think it's the combination of losing diga-Duna, realizing he has a crazed sister living somewhere here apparently possessed by a monster or something we're not really sure, and then the whole ancients-are-trying-to-possess-everyone that got him into this awkward state in the first place. So then I stand back up on the tips of the toes on my right foot and, hobbling back toward the mural, slap a hand on the image carved of a lady who once had horns and wings the color of blood, just like freaking diga-Dynal as in diga-Dino's diga-dad as in king of all the crazy diga-dinaurians. Her hair, I've been told, was violet, like her eyes, like her chest. And I think she had mostly black skin but her stomach was... uh... orange..? Something I diga-don't know. And I think she had white on her somewhere. Personally, I've never seen Amethyst alive, so it's not like I know.

If anyone could tell me the most perfect image of her, it'd be her husband or son, diga-duh. Or diga-daughter. Not like we know where she is. I remember it was that mystery of me trying to figure out the name inscribed next to her that got diga-Dino to the murals because I'd wanted to badly to go, and when I looked at them he did too and it turned out he recognized them and I diga-didn't because I can't freaking read diga-dinaurian diga-dialect. So anyways that was fun.

So, well, I'm sitting over here, pestering my vivosaurs, because the thought of checking up on diga-Dino after he wakes up kinda sickens me after he acted so... normal last night. I mean I can't really diga-deal with this all that well so it'd kind of kill me to try after he's gonna be so gloomy today. He always gets exceptionally gloomy on diga-days after he acts particularly like the diga-Dino we all know and love. Heck, on the first diga-day it all started that's exactly what happened. Well, it was louder, more a screaming tantrum, which was kind of terrifying, but still, same idea. Sometimes I go "out" on these diga-days to get stuff or visit people, but that'd be a moldy habit to keep up, so usually it's on a better morning or something that I'll alert to him he's gotta spend the diga-day without me.

It's funny... I mumble those two words to myself as I trace Amethyst's image over with my one forefinger, feeling the rusty, sandy texture scrape below my darkened skin color. Diga-Dino's gone orange, so I gotta stay the same for the both of us. That entire phrase seems rusty on me. "For both of us." He's been acting like a mountain range of emotions while I'm the tiny hill trying to keep that boy from... from being lost, I diga-dunno, from something really bad that wrecks him and changes him forever and ever and never shows me the diga-Dino and best friend he's supposed to be again. I... think he'll be okay as long as I diga-don't royally screw up anywhere. Uh... I'm just gonna stay on the positive side of that.

But how long will it take; and what the heck am I supposed to diga-do, anyways? My only supposed guide is a few words from a guy whose body is full of sugar from vivo-cakes and other crazy sweets all the time. Not a lot of words, either. It's making me nervous, thinking about him; my hand engraves harder into the diga-dead queen's outline and my left foot hit the ground at some point without my realization. Cool to the touch, tiles of white glazed in some sorta rainbow diga-doesn't feel too bad for my sore toe. Why the heck diga-did it take me that long to figure it out? My other hand shoves through a mess of fiery bangs, one little twirly-doo sticking out to the side so I flick at it and it moves not an inch. Of course.

Stirring inside of me, I nearly cough a feather as a singeing tone speaks up and almost coughs flames at me while she's at it. _Du-uuude! Calm down for a mo' there or we'll all set ourselves on fire!_

 _Yes, but Bomba, dear, now hear me clear, you're the only one with fire here._

 _Bliss, why the heck did you start doin' that funky dunky rhyming scheme in the first place? I swear I didn't meet you when you were acting like a crazy fat poet!_ My old-fashioned u-raptor stares past her small, red nose and smirks a little. The fiery line of feathers around her head make her face all the darker and her confusion taste almost charred. She's unconsciously tried _idiot_ to burn everyone before so it's always a good idea to not freak Bomba out.

In response, my strangely diga-dramatic and gigantic acro sticks out her bulk and speaks her in slow, loud tone that bores into everything and diga-demands attention, poetic or whatever it was or not. _Poetry is peaceful, and an art—and you who digresses me, you are a tart._

 _Make it stop,_ moans Foster. His orange-topped head, like he wears a hat over his pale underside, bows diga-down in some way of him showing pain. Of course, this diga-does not result in anyone paying attention or actually listening to him because he's Foster and nobody seems to remember him all that much. His voice is also sleepy. Makes him sound tired of life.

Giggling from the background, my lovely final recruit, an air creature called Morie whose face looks like the middle of a flower with the petals all around her, raises her small, green body and points with a sharp claw: _No, it's more than just a peaceful art. Y'see, Bliss thought it'd help Dino out and make him better, so then she started being poetic out of worry or something and I think she doesn't know how to stop._

 _Ugh, you diga-didn't have to tell anyone,_ I mutter, _it's embaaaarrrassing. I need some of diga-Din-Din's vivosaurs to join up with us; not for Bliss to spew poetry everywhere. It's just a lot of rhyming, anyways. I diga-doubt that someone who's somehow become my best friend would like to listen to a fat acro rhyme a bunch._

 _I'm not fat; I'm big-boned; and why should I stop; if poetry is enthroned?_ Okay, that's it, I diga-don't even understand what she's trying to say anymore.

 _Bliss. Stop. I can't figure you out anymore! Digadig, that's kinda a bad thing so stop rhyming already._

Silence. I kind of expected that. My oh so reliable earth vivosaur has shut up on me; she diga-does that when she gets mad. Her earthy head will probably move its jaws again later. For now... I think I'll keep worrying about diga-Dino, and since it's pretty unproductive to jab at my vivosaurs this much, I should... back away from the mural and put my hands behind my back. Thankfully, nothing breaks on that strange stone, so I think it's okay. So... now I have to try to shove my brain back into the gears and think of something productive to do that'll kick that boy back in shape. Sure, if I calmly watch over him and all he'll eventually get better, well, I think maybe, if we're being positive, but somewhere in that skittish brain of his, he knows, as well as I diga-do, that we diga-don't exactly have all the time in the world as it is. I get that he'd need a couple days to steady himself after his diga-dead mom, missing sister, and then the whole diga-Duna thing, she's the girl that got turned to stone after everything; but it's been more than weeks and I get this feeling inside of me that it'll just get worse before it gets better. Sure, I'll always be by his side. I get that it's hard when people important to you go poof—my freaking parents are diga-dead, diga-Dino, as you know, but thank gosh we've got your diga-dad because he's pretty chill.

I diga-don't got much to go off of. _"Jkonna, I wanted to ask you, while you're here..."_ It's... well, pretty self-explanatory. Obvious. Guh. Just gotta try to get that kid in shape before next week.

 _Why do you call him a kid if you're both the same age?_

 _Foster, this is like the third time you've asked this diga-darn question._ That doesn't change his let's-go-to-bed tone of voice. He also diga-doesn't helpfully restate the question or just outright take it back. Could he stop asking that already? It's kinda annoying me. A lot of things are kinda annoying me right now, mostly because I'm stressed because my favorite diga-dude in the whole world is currently in this strange stage of sulking that he won't just get up and shake off. And I diga-don't understand, as much as I've tried to, why he's taking so long, and why it hurts him so much, but I'll stay by his side, and now I'm stressed and a little very annoyed. And because Foster isn't helping matters, I diga-don't answer his questions until he's repeating them over and over in the framework of my skull and I suddenly have the strange urge to tie up his longer-than-three-Jkonnas neck in a knot. _I just diga-do. I have no reason._

 _Okay, just wondering._

 _WHY DIGA-DO YOU KEEP ASKING, DIGA?_

 _I dunno. It's fun._ And by now, although an even stranger urge to bite his blue-rimmed medal and swallow it has occurred, the futabi lives because that's a stupid idea that wouldn't work. Man, he's annoying, and he only gets more annoying the more diga-dire my best friend's state gets. If I was as blunt as him, I'd wonder why, but it's pretty obvious that I'm just stressed. Maybe I should calm myse—naah. I got this. No I don't; I got this. It's honest-to-heck all I can diga-do for myself right now as all of my attention goes to my best friend and suddenly for some reason my heart rate spikes because worry and I almost swallow and choke on a muscle or two that throbs as the blood rushes hot to my darkened skin. I slam through a couple of entrances and sprint up through that one knothole in the corner that gets me into the chambers to which I diga-duck in and stare at the opening of purple as I glare though it with my icy eyes to cross my fingers and hope the mess isn't too bad.

Thankfully, I guess it's my lucky moment or something. For now, the sheets around the tidy bed are made, the little diga-desk's pretty handy and untouched, the lamp is not on fire, that's always a plus, and Bomba has calmed herself. If her emotions get to be too much, things happen. Fire happens. Charred stuff, smoke, and vivosaurs on fire happen.

Poking my head through the purple, speckled gel, then my neck, then, shimmying awkwardly through just in case a diga-denture shark pops out of nowhere and tries to bite me—these things happen sometimes, and diga-denture sharks can show up just about anywhere if there's water, and I'm still not sure if there's water in this gel thing or not—and then a quick pop of scattering Jkonna as she trips over some snoozing throw pillow of a vivosaur fool and careens into the smooth material that builds up the bed, what I once thought was wood but both diga-Dino and diga-Dynal told otherwise. In fact, king guy over back there diga-didn't even know what the heck wood _was_ until we told him. Creepy.

There, just beneath my hovering head which almost smacked onto covers, lies the bulging, wiggling form of a foot, connecting to a thinner, slimmer thing called a leg, rounding up and up until a crazy conjunction of body parts occurs ahead about about half of diga-Dino's forehead is showing, alongside most of his curls, and that's about it. Sleeping the diga-day away again. I see. That's not too bad. I might just be able to get him into fighting condition by next week.

" _Jkonna, I wanted to ask you, while you're here, after you told us what happened with your parents..."_

Guh. Gotta make sure he's not burning a fever to smithereens or anything. That would be bad.

Dark, chilly fingers, because mine are blissfully cold, rest upon an orange-scaled forehead, which honestly diga-doesn't feel at all diga-different to the forehead I'd felt from when we both had no idea he was a diga-dinaurian. And, judging by the fact that nothing feels too steamy to me and my hands haven't practically melted, once I release their jaw grip from his face, waving them around in the air, he's just fine and sleepy. Last night, when he was acting so happy and joyous and, well, himself, really, it kinda sucked, sitting there, staring at him, recalling some pretty ugly mornings and understanding the fact that he's going to be worse the next day. So, right now, checking out his forehead and sleepy self, literally snoozing, unlike Foster, understanding that there's no way he'll be at such peace with himself tomorrow, it's kind of a hard thing to swallow whole. But then again... I mean, he usually isn't so peaceful on the second diga-day... it's supposed to get worse but..?

It's not like I've gotten used to it; just understand that it's what I gotta do?

Well, there's obviously no way I'm stirring him now, so I plop diga-down beside him and stare at his oddly pacified state, his face diga-droopy and pleasant, spikes of black-and-orange hair flipped over in random sides which makes him look even more pleasant because honestly, it's weird when he tries to diga-do something with his hair, which has happened in the past and it's bad. So bad. Oh diga-dear turd, diga-don't get me started on that hair of his. On its free will it's so fluffy and floaty and soft spikes of pretty monochromatic coloring other than orange, which is kind of weird, now that I think about it—diga-Dino, why diga-does the majority of your body consist of gray and black and then orange? Weirdo. Weirdo diga-Dino. I flick the pillow on the side of his head so that I won't wake him, then smirk at myself at what I'm diga-doing.

If this was anyone else, I'd probably flick them; but it's not, it's diga-Dino, so here I am, smirking like I'm four or something and asked some boy out. Or girl. I diga-don't really spend my time worrying about which gender is the alpha gender so I diga-dunno. I mean, diga-Dino's a diga-dude, I'm a diga-dudette, so... what's the problem..? But I swear there's this one annoying girl, Scoute, who seriously thinks that diga-Dino and I should I diga-don't know be a couple _get over it, Scoute._ Get over it _now._ I swear. Other people these days. There's this one tabula rasa, sort of levitating guy with huge oval head and metallic gray coloring, Kl-33N, who thinks diga-Dino is some crazy commando diga-dude and then he'll shout at everyone who thinks he'll ever go smitten. Guess Rosie better steer clear of him.

Oh, geez, that reminds me... I pull out my hands and, keeping one steady and spread out, use the other as a pointer and start counting names in my head, tapping fingers as I go and switching hands when I get past five, adding on Rosetta. Pinky. Diga-Dino calls her pinky. She might like if it I say that. Or not. Maybe it's another "diga-Dino thing" that I can't copy _meanie._ So that's... next time I go out, can't forget Rosetta or her grandpa Mr. Richmond or Nick Nack, yeah, that blonde guy wanted me for some reason and I haven't spoken with him for awhile so that's pretty great, and I think someone else... oh, right, Saurhead. And Scoute. I want to punch her but I probably shouldn't.

Geez. I only want to hurt specific specimen. Like fine creatures such as _Foster_ , for example. Just to name one. But I almost never diga-do because I am a very ladylike figure. _Don't say such things, please, I think I'll go deaf._ See. This is what I mean. Freaking Foster. Your neck is mine.

Sometimes I look at my thoughts in retrospect and wonder why I sound so much like diga-Dino; then it hits me, because no, he sounds like me. Then again he'll probably feel the same way once he has a chance to, and all of the blackness in his life has been purposefully scraped away by no other hand than mine. Yes, I know, I feel very prideful.

Next week, I should probably... Well, that's my goal. Have diga-Dino fixed in time for... around seven or so diga-days from now. Maybe eight. Maybe nine. Not really sure yet. But if I get him all patched up by then, life will... be a lot smoother again, and I'll feel better about some upcoming bumps in the road. It's easier to handle problems when someone else is there, shouting the same things at the problem, and you know that there is someone who understands you. But diga-Dino's kind of in this place right now where he can't diga-do much of that. Whatever. I really need to get that boy fixed soon or I'll start freaking out more than I already am.

Because I'm technically not helping anyone by just sitting here, thumbing my own fingers over and over again, I shake out some fiery strands of hair and step from the bed, from the smooth and comfy, puffy flooring, out through the purple gel and past the throne room area because diga-Dynal is very obviously not in here, though I kinda had an urge to speak with him over a couple things, so I'll just come back later. Maybe mess with some other diga-dinaurians until then.

" _Jkonna, I wanted to ask you, while you're here, after you told us what happened with your parents, since—well, Watcher said it was okay—so..."_

That thought—guh, get it out of my head. I have a mission and that mission must be fulfilled by next week so that diga-Dino will be there instead of in his sadistic diga-Dino state. Although it's only been two diga-days and making assumptions is like giving your mortal life to an ancient, well, the first diga-day he'd gone on even better than a usual enjoyable diga-day, and now today he's sleeping pretty easily, and though that means he's probably tired after getting out and diga-doing things, there it is, that _chance_ , he's gotta be ready by next week. Gotta be. I refuse to believe that boy won't lift up his head and look at the light streaming from every little point to obliterate his diga-dark puddle I'm gonna diga-destroy.

Skipping merrily around the compound with these sort of evil thoughts in my head, well, no, they're not evil, they're for the goodwill of my favorite person in the entire world, there's a diga-difference, but I'm still skipping and it brings back bad memories of happier times so then I sort of stop and flop at the ground with a weird sort of walk, and there I diga-decide to go pester some diga-dinaurians on the starship while I'm here. Especially Raptin. Once he was being a butt so I tackled him and then diga-Dino diga-did too. It was great.

 _Wait wait wait! What is that I hear?_ Oh, oh no it's Bliss. _Speak again, Jkkie, did you hear it clear?_ Stop. Oh my gosh. Stop. _You spoke in a sort of tone that reminded me of rhymes._ I honestly couldn't care less, Bliss. _Oh, but in such a sweet taste, like that of limes._ Now this is just getting weird. She really should stop. And because I know she's not going to, I request Bomba to set her on fire.

Confusion writes its red pen all over her hot face. _Whaaaat? But everyone burns on its own! I never do—_ Morie raises a claw and taps one of Bomba's against the tail of a certain acro— _it! I never do a single thing!_ I can't comprehend how she diga-doesn't realize this. But then my gaze flops over and everything stops like I accidentally turned it all to ice.

Disheveled blue hair. Noticeably yellow, dull yellow, like Bliss, chest, Entire chest. Include the stomach. His arms and face a light but shaded cyan and yellow orbs glaring back at me, marked below on the cheeks in the same color. His tail twitches and purple feet halt as he catches a good look at me. "Oh." Sharp, flat tone. Yeah, he's not happy. "It is you." Yeah, it's me. Jkkie. Jkonna. You. Whatever works. "Jkonna, get out of my way; I have important business to conduct."

And because I can, I diga-do it, scrunching up my face and smirking. "Oh, diga-doooo you, Raptin? Last I checked, you were under watch by the king himself, oh oh aaaand you're not allowed to turn into your battle form, diga-dumb scales, and diga-doesn't that just make you the perfect candida—"

Shoved aside. Kind of him. Haaa. Not. " _Move_ , Jkonna. My sister no longer exists in this dimension because of you and your antics, somehow convincing your 'best friend'"—okay, that mocking tone hurt, man—"to choose her to go with him and therefore enter and exit great and horrible Guhnash with him, so therefore she has been turned to stone by a machine that was supposed to protect her and then finish the duty it had been assigned, not lose her forever."

I'm sorry, I can't help myself. "I thought you diga-didn't care about anyone, geez."

"I care about Duna. Is that enough information for your feeble mind? Leave me through."

"You need a girlfriend, digadig."

"Hush. Let me through."

"What diga-do you mean? Why diga-don't you just pass on by?"

 _Because I got your back._ Holy smokes I know that loud and commanding voice and it's not being poetic right now someone please praise whoever caused this miraculous moment. _Oh, but my tail's on fire, so look out or I'll burn everything. I also don't do very good in fire habitats, sooooo..._ ohh turd. _Hey! You! Rappy guy!_ Believe it or not, his face jolts and his eyes smolder over my fat vivosaur. _Give me your best piece of literature, stat!_ Why diga-did I have a feeling it could come to this.

 _Literature? Pest, let me—_ He pauses, because even Raptin knows not to mess with an acro that's on fire. Especially an acro that's on fire _and_ owned by Jkonna. _Literature... I presume your definition in your lands to this word has to do with fine pieces of writing..._

 _Hey, buddy?_ I whisper. His ears perk but otherwise it's like he hasn't heard me. _Diga-don't use any pick-up lines,_ and in a diga-deadpan voice he whispers back in his creepy ol' Raptin tone: _I was not planning on it._

So then we're all just standing here, staring at my entire diga-desert biome of an acro, if we want to call her that huge, which is honestly a huge understatement especially when diga-Dino's got vivosaurs like Pippy stomping around the place where the shadow of his belly can sometimes swamp poor Bliss. And beads of sweat break diga-down our faces; just... just staring. Just waiting. Staring at the crumbly face and large jawline as her tail, like a fuse, is slowly worked on by some flames. I'm waiting for Raptin to diga-do something; he's waiting for someone else to command order and take his place, but see, Bliss doesn't work like that. The sweat gathers and makes my forehead icy and, when I finger it, feel as if it's frozen while the rest of me burns up like a fever and Raptin moves not a bit. I'm tempted to bite his arm if it makes him work like he's supposed to.

 _Diga-do something,_ I grumble out of gritted teeth in the back of my throat. What does he say? Nothing. Of course nothing.

Then out of nowhere a rushed, choppy, sped-through and apparently embarrassing or else Raptin's face wouldn't be getting so hot just spurts out of his mouth and in the some ten seconds he takes to recite it as quickly as possible, Bliss's face changes astronomically: first calm and barren, then bright, bubbling, lifted and hopeful just as quickly to smash into the reality called life and only to feel her mouth crunching and stubbing itself on broken diga-dreams chewed in on the inside, and then she's sobbing and two seconds later she's clapping rapidly and Raptin kicks past her flub and jolts off.

 _Diga-did you, like, hear, all of that just now? Diga-did it all actually make sense or something? And you got the gist of it and your emotions were hampered? See, poems are evil; they take over emotions, and that's creepy._ But Bliss doesn't stir all that much, just staring off into an alternate universe filled with her strange fantasies and probably all the words Raptin just ran off. Seriously, what was so diga-dumb about it? It probably wasn't so bad if Raptin hated saying it. Honestly, if he squirmed so much, he must've said one of the nicest things in the world, else it wouldn't have gotten Bliss to work so well and emotionally. It usually takes a guy like me or diga-Dino but usually not him to get her to act natural. Whatever her natural might be.

 _How did your tail get set on fire, Bliss?_

Sharply her head backhands against a glowing wall and something cracks but it's not the wall it's gotta be her pride. Or her skull. Nah, it's her pride. _Now is_ not _the time, plebeian Bomba. My heart is smattering from the beauty of those emotions. Jkonna, get me a metaphor. Please. I need. A metaphor._ I diga-don't understand why you're so creepy and annoying, but fine.

 _The acro was a desert. Happy?_

 _Oh, but the flavor is all wrong!_ Stop creeping me out, man. _The acro—was a desert, her thick, flabby body folded and folded, glazed in the color of sands, and held beneath the heated inspection of the sun, for all to explore within her fast depths._

It feels like the right time to bring it up, so I snort. _Kill me now, digadig._

 _I really didn't catch all that much of whatever Raptin was talking about,_ muses Morie because she's nice and tries to clue me in when times of crisis happen, _but I think it was some sort of lullaby or something he'd tell Duna when they were together, before... that happened to her. You know. She turned to rock and can't be recovered for what, millions of years or something, just like a fossil? Poor guy... We all deserve people to love, so it must be hard on him to lose someone he cares so much about her._

 _Wait—WAIT. HOLD YOUR JAW, MORIE._ This time she diga-doesn't actually diga-do so. _He has a heart? Are you SURE?_

 _Um, yeah. Even Foster and Bliss have hearts, so I don't see why not Raptin._

 _Uuuhhhhhh-huh. We should tell diga-Dynal that, too, digadig. I wonder if he'll belie—oh yeah, we were gonna go visit him. Right. Forgot. Raptin was being too... diga... annoying and diga mysterious. C'mon, let's go, Kick Squad._ It just seems to fit them. But between me and diga-Dino, I guess we'd be a... well, we always call him the Flower Squad because technically he owns all girls, technically, even with his one gay vivosaur who's been all diga-depressing, so we'd be the Flower Power Squad? Yeah, but that's too cliché, so no. No way man.

Somehow my ensemble manages to fork off into a random scoop in one of the walls where one of the little homes that a diga-dinaurian and their close ones currently stay in together. Inside, the voices signify that there's gotta be a king in there because they're speaking so softly and I hear words that have to diga-do with diga-Dino and worry about what'll come next, diga-dinaurian logic turd, all this stuff people usually diga-don't come to me to talk about, diga-duh. Soon enough, thank gosh, the chatter diga-dies, or else I'd go crazy impatient and run back to the mural and inspect it s'more because I diga-don't know, murals, and fuzzy-sounding good-byes are exchanged and a white-haired dude nearly smacks straight into me.

"Diga-Dynaaaal!"

His angular face turns sidelong and peers diga-downward to face me. Diga-deep violet orbs peer into me. The guy's regal appearance, even in this random encounter, stands out well, and his wings and his horns and spines of royal red, shimmery, sparkly, hinted in purples and diga-demanding my attention, just make you think he's one of those colder kinds of people but really he's kind of pretty nice. And understanding. Which is pretty awesome since my own parents aren't too understanding. Well. Weren't. Too understanding.

" _Jkonna, I wanted to ask you, while you're here, after you told us what happened with your parents, since—well, Watcher said it was okay—so, I was wondering if you'd like if..."_

Guh—gaah, get that thought away it keeps attacking me in symbolic places.

His long, pale strands of hair pulse far diga-down his body and blow just the slightest as if a regal wind follows him around everywhere, or maybe he just left the little compartment so motion is still toying with him. Sometimes I stare at this guy and try to imagine what his wife was like, because while he's got diga-Dino's hidden, underlying form, he's not super silly and stupid like him. Geez. Maybe that diga-Dina girl, his diga-daughter we can't find or whatever, acts like him. Probably. I feel like... eh, I diga-dunno.

"And how are you today, Jkonna?" See, diga-Dino won't go asking that around to people. I mean yeah somewhere on the inside I'm pretty sure he actually cares, but he diga-doesn't go out of his way to ask of others.

I stare at the ground very intently with my orbs of mystical, light aura, as he calls them. "Well... kinda complicated, I guess. I feel like one of those puzzles that you lost some half of the pieces to but you're trying to complete it anyways, digadig." I can feel his sort of confused glance tying diga-down on me. Silly. "Oh, it's one of the board games diga-Dino and I scrounged up for you, digadig. There was... uh... Sauropods and Wings, you know, the one where if you land on certain spaces you either fly up on a winged vivosaur or slide down one that looks like Pippy, and there's Cake Land, that one diga-Diggins had that he let us keep. And... uh... the puzzle, right, digadig! It looks like... diga... uh... oh, right, a bunch of supercool vivosaurs in I think a parade. The one that's so big cuz it had all of them on it that you and me and diga-Dino tried to complete until Lone started trying to eat the pieces."

By now, he's laughing softly. I am clueless on the matter, but he has a soft spot for Lone, that crazy, purple nasaur, and I diga-don—oh maybe she reminds him of his wife a little? Well, Amethyst was mostly purple, or, well, she wouldn't have been named Amethyst, diga-duh. And Lone's purple. Close enough for me. Also Lone has that extreme on the silly-side personality that kills everyone but him, but I guess we wouldn't be the same without her. I think.

"I see. It is a hard time that we must travel through, Jkonna." I like how his refreshing, calm tone states my name. It's kind of like a smooth stone that he rolls over, to where the _kh_ is almost silent. "But surely through our efforts and the efforts of those around us we will succeed in both reviving of those who have given up their hopes and dreams, and as well configure a plan to end the realm of the ancient vivosaurs you speak of that plan to attempt to... possess others for their need to live again... due to... impatience?" It's hilarious seeing that tall, slim, angular figure use a glance so childlike at me. I feel like I've seen it somewhere before. Maybe on my best friend, diga-duh.

Okay. Here goes. Diga-deep breath. "Well, yeah... diga... um... I was hoping maybe we could try to get back diga-Dino by next week after all he's gone through... he's looking way, way better, digadig, and also, there was something I think he wouldn't want to miss, that I'll surely tell him about when his recovery gets more obvious..."

" _Jkonna, I wanted to ask you, while you're here, after you told us what happened with your parents, since—well, Watcher said it was okay—so, I was wondering if you'd like if...  
"I were to... adopt you."_

"It's something I think he'd... really look forward to, y'see... And that'd be nice... I think, diga... if we could have diga-Diggins, too. We always joke about him being our second diga-dad as it is, so... something like that... we-well... it'd... D-digadig, it'd be kinda special, and I know he'd like to see it all come together, in a way."

He blinks. "You are not suggesting that he and I... Are y—"

"Diga-duuuuude, no! Nooooo no no no no! He's got a girlfriend, man! A girlfriend! And I mean you had—have a wife." He still has her, in a way. He talks about her a lot, so... it's not like he'll ever forget about her. "So, diga, it's not like that. It's like how I already consider you my diga-dad anyways because diga-Dino because all of that." Then his eyes shine because he gets it. Okay great.

With a nod, he accepts this. "I understand. We will do what we can as a whole to recover my son from the stupor he has unraveled toward, I am sure." So then I'm smiling stupidly and begin to turn around.

"But as well... accept his actions, or at least try to. You never quite know with an enigma like him." Hah, yeah, from a gene pool like him and whatever Amethyst's gotta be that got diga-Dino so freaking diga-Dino, you never really know, I guess. But there's a lot of love in that concoction too, so... It's all good.

Yeah. All good.

" _I were to... adopt you..."_

 **Yay, a happy ending! Well, it's only the fourth chapter, so I can't really say this means everyhing will be happy now, but, hey, this chapter ends pretty well especially in comparison to chapter 3. Since this story mostly focuses on Jkonna and all that she's going through, we won't see as much of Dina or Rupert, but they do show up somewhat regularly throughout. :3 Thank you for reading~**


	5. Do: Pushed off the Mountain Again

**Me: Okay, this'll be the last chapter I get to make last week... TTwTT I had a break in school for this week so I always try to write as many chapters as possible when I get that time, and have decided that writing one chapter every two days works well, haha. That's why I've been writing through days it would seem that I'd have other stuffs to do. Just if you were wondering. XD But after this things to back to normal until Christmas time...**

 **Jkonna: what's been the hardest part so far**

 **Me: … I didn't know you had a heart. Ha. Uh... staying up way too late revising. Because I am rendered unable to do it earlier. Also I got this game a few weeks ago called Devil Survivor 2 and I was getting pretty far on it until I realized I had locked my entire save file into killing someone but I but I DON'T WANNA KILL ANYONE so I made a new file. Cuz no.**

 **Dino: We should all band together and kill... uh... dang it, who should we kill?  
**

 **Rupert: -.- How about no one?**

 **-Insert space for Dina who isn't allowed to be here when her brother is-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 5: Pushed off the Mountain Again

 _Dino_

 _At first, everything was going pretty well as I rode Droplet who had a horn stabbed into her head for some reason like she's an omias, because that's a specifically omias talent, the horn-in-the-head and the magic turd about it, wait, no, and equinas too, they're like mammals with long legs and a horn in the head, but anyways I figured at some point this wasn't all that real if Droplet was letting me ride her without so much as a snide comment in the first place. There was a time, oh so long ago, in the mysterious depths called the past, well, not really all that mysterious for_ me _, that I would find this a complete fantasy right there, right then. But... maybe it's not. Droplet might've fallen on top of something like a sea shell so now she looks like an omias or equinas, whichever one is cooler and now since we're buddies she's not pestering me as much._

 _That kinda makes sense, right? Uh, I think it most likely does. Anyway, here I am, sitting on top of a water monster with my hands wrapped around her flabby neck if that even is a neck, I think it's a neck, and now, even though super aquatic vivosaurs can simply hover in the air as they always do, we're literally flying through the sky and there are bits of clouds getting crammed into my mouth every time my head pokes into one—why is the horizon too small? If this keeps up, I just might choke on clouds._

 _But then all of a sudden Droplet is gone and the clouds are gone and everything is gone and I land smack on top of a sharp surface just slightly fuzzy with residue of dew or something, maybe snow, or maybe not snow since my bum isn't all cold now. Slowly lifting myself, I glance around and shake out my spiky hair so I can see again only to not find my missing krona and just be bombarded by a fairly scenic view of the world, also a lot of mountains, like what I'd assume I'm standing on, the peak of one. If I glance back, there's quite a few lumps in the sky behind me, and, right now the world is at my demand and out for my glory in front. Literally nothing is in the way at all: it's perfectly clear. Pristine. Shiny. I like shiny._

 _If I take one wrong step, though, trying to clamber under to the bottom of the mountain and reach the ground again, it's a pretty long drop into one of the biggest sort of crevices in the ground, some bottomless canyon of gaping black, just below. If I'm careful enough and be gentle for once in my life, I can get to the ground again and kiss it or something for making it alive and escape from all of these crazy and random mountains. I glance beside me and stare, a little incredulously, at the shaky strip of creepily elongated plateau covered in grass and almost looking like a bunch of hills beside me, so near that I can feel it, but just far enough that I can't jump into its safety and be done with all this. It's there for me, though. I don't know how that works but it's there for me._

 _If I glance sharply enough, I think I can catch sight of a figure over there. It's hard to make out, though... but I think their arms are out, like they're expecting me to jump that gap. But, see, now I check the canyon dip again and realize that it's not just straight out in front of me, it sort of surrounds me in little craggy falls into a forever sort of darkness, but again, if I try to be gentle and it all works out, once I get down there I can make out some tiny little land bridges that're big enough to support me and my entire family soon—dad and... uh... sister. And mom too, but she'd be weightless so it doesn't matter. My dad likes it when I add her in, too... and I like it._

 _So I glance back up towards the what-I-think-is-living-thing over on the crazy hill plateau thing. There are no slumps in those hills so they're super connected or something. Unlike, well... my crazy, jagged mountain range. The plateau is all shaky and uncontrolled, almost, but almost in correlation to mine. Still not quite, although it's kinda getting there. I wonder why they're trying so hard to be like me. Looking back, that figure has a lot of brown in them, still frantically waving, so I sort of point downwards and smile through a very freaked out mouth. As in "Please help me. Scary. Freaking out." Of course I don't say anything so the figure doesn't actually hear me, but maybe they see me better than I see them. The plateau seems to bend closer my way the more it's been growing, and if my eyes aren't deceiving me, I think it'd doing a loop around to try and connect with my mountains. To try and... uh... save me?_

 _Ugh, did I have to become Princess Din-Din? I don't need saving. Meanie._

 _No that's not true please help me._

" _Diiiinooo..." Like a ghost haunting my past mountains, a voice begins to trail me, and I'm not sure how far back it is, but it's coming at me. "Diiiinoooo..!" Ooh. It's coming at me quickly. The voice is already beginning to solidify. In the precious seconds I have I do not try to jump for the plateau because I'm not that crazy but instead force the word that keeps repeating in that specific voice through the grunt work of memory and cross my fingers that something comes up._

 _High pitched? Yes. Squeaky, squealing, whatever that annoying tone is? Yes. Makes you think of the color pink if you've heard it for too long in your life? Holy yes. Oh. Wait. It's Rosie. And that's about as much time as I got._

" _Diiiinooooo! Dino! Diiinooo! Diiiiiiinoooooooooooo!" I think there's a sob wedged in there too when as quickly as her voice had started showing up, a body of pink shoves against me in some feeble attempt to grab me close to her and I begin to stutter back then bam I'm off the mountain's edge. Do I ever figure out where I land?_

 _No idea._

No idea.

"Diinoo..." The voice is muttering at me now, pawing at my face and probably bruising me cheeks a little. Ow. I think this creature is sitting on my legs. Well, I guess I don't mind too much; that dream was pretty messed up. But wait, there's more: if I glance thickly enough into the mess of what could honestly be any time because living in this regal starship, as we all call it, doesn't say much. So we all sleep when we feel like it and work together usually on less specific intervals, and the only one who lives by the sun's circuit on Vivosaur Island would happen to be my best friend as in Jkonna cuz she visits there sorta frequently.

But this isn't Jkonna. Jkonna's not all desperate and crybaby. She's... more like me, I guess. Although she'd say that I'm more like her, if this was all in her point of view, but why do that when we can have me? Okay, no, I'm kidding, that just sounds dumb. I remember my task at hand and glare slate-gray eyes into the dimness since Jkonna's made sure the lights are all dimmed, not sure how that works, she always does that, and there, just visible in front of me, is pink. A lot of pink. As my eyes struggle to adjust, though, I reckon the fact that although there's a lot of pink, Rosie for sure—because this has to be Rosie—hasn't gotten all that much talle—

...wait.  
She's doing _that thing_. Oh my gosh go away Rosie.

Just sitting here, in my bed, in front of me, on my legs so I can't escape, and staring right at me and whispering my name freakishly. Rosie, what the heck is wrong with you. Go away. Leave me alone. C'mon. Stop. Stop doing this. We've been over this, Rosie.

And for all of my silent pleas I lose my arms too because a pink body tackles against me and her frilly clothes cut at my coat of scales and shake a few loose. Pink-shaded hands grapple and fold my arms down so now yeah, I'm basically stuck to my own bed by Rosie Richmond herself. Her pink waves of hair tumble down so that I see she doesn't even have it done up for some reason, even though she always has it up in two twin ties of bubblegum hair. When I glance over, I mean, yeah, I'm used to her clothes being pink, but she's not usually in such flannel clothing that feels so soft and smells like hints of candy. Are those, like, her pajamas? And she's... Rosie. Oh my gosh get off of me. Still on my own, Jkonna snoring like a boss beside me and all of my vivosaurs I don't know where, maybe being blocked off by her ten million or some air-elemental vivosaurs, her face leans in very close to me until I can feel her breath on me and it's panting and it's cold. Jkonna has cold hands and feet but warm breath. I think Rosie's currently the opposite.

My brain asks if I want to try to break free of her binds. I should probably switch into my battle form thingy and do something about this, since it's not like Rosie's stopped off all of my means of getting her away from me, but staring into those deep swirls of magenta eyes catches my breath somewhere and sets my heart racing. Panic? Fear? Adrenaline? Do her eyes just remind me of ice cream? Ugh, I think the emotions inside of her are rubbing off on me, but either way, it suddenly feels kinda wrong to just morph into my vivosaur form and knock her out.

Why does it always end up this way? I really should grow a man heart and hit her or something to prevent whatever it is that's so important from happening or whatever. At least, I think that's how it goes. Seriously, though, if she won't stop, then shouldn't I do something about this to keep her from continuing? It's more than slightly creepy to attack somebody's room while they're sleeping and then bind them down with your own hands and legs and then stare at them. It's more than slightly creepy more like super creepy.

And then I remember I have a mouth.

"Pssssst. Hey. Hey. Jkonna. Hey." I can't emphasize with poking and her snoring really isn't helping matters. Uuugghh. Usually, Rosie manages to attack me in such form so that Jkonna's not around, because Jkonna is freaking scary when she gets mad, being a redhead and all, although it's more fiery than that, more a fuse that just lit everything literally on fire, as Bomba will do that without realizing, to just _add_ to things. "Jkonn—"

Oh yeah. Then Rosie does a thing that prevents me from using my mouth as it was. I've always called this sort of thing the mouth-thing and man, it's really annoying now. Bad Rosie. Get off. I already told you that I can't help you with anything about stuff that might've been happening since someone else is gone and it'd be wrong to just accept that—I can't... seriously, man, I can't even. I call it the mouth-thing because there is a mouth and then there's another mouth. Rosie, seriously, if you keep this up I'll run out of air.

It does stop but that look in her gaze is really freaking me out, and it's funny. Jkonna'd been telling me these past few days or something that I was actually doing very well or something like that, I'm not so sure. But now it feels like everything just sort of drained out of me... I'm thinking maybe Rosie's bam tired me out, I mean it's really late and she rudely took me out of my sleeping phase, as Dad calls it, when she begins to speak more than just my name.

"Diino... Dino—l-love me again, y-you can't just f-forget about me..." I... uh... How do I respond to that? Holy turd if she doesn't watch her words I might burst into embarrassing non-manly tears Rosie please watch your words. "Dino... you and I were supposed to be s-so close..." She's not watching her words. She has taken her eyes from her words and has kept them on me and me alone this entire time and I'm freaking out a little bit. "We were supposed to be together... we could've gone so far... s-stop being so selfish and help me... _help me, Dino... I need you..._ " Aaaaaaaah.

Blinking through the haze of pink in front of me, I try shifting around a little more when a brilliant idea comes across me and I toss my tail not aside because it's laying on the wrong side so I can't hit Jkonna with it, but instead knock at a pillow which goes spiraling into her face and the snoring gets cut off and the puffy marshmallow of resting is tossed at me but misses and therefore hits the next closest thing: as in the pink one trying to take over my life in a way. "AAAAGH!" Wow. I didn't know Jkonna could make her scream that loudly. Rosie, buffeted by puffy white pillow, knocks her head into a bed post or something and rolls over so that she hits the soft padded ground with a slight _whumph._ Not... too bad, right? I don't think it was too bad.

Rosie coughs words that sound like they have to do with romance and me. Ugk. Help. Romance has lost its train tracks and crashed some time ago. We're cruising along a ghost wreck, and you can't fix ghost wrecks. Nuh-uh; you can't.

"Uhh... Jkonna, you didn't have to attack her."

Blazing cold orbs peer out from behind muffled covers. "Her, you say." A pause. "Diga."

"Uh, yeah? Rosie's kinda winded down there... remember? You just tossed a pillow at her and now she's on the ground. Again." The only new part would be having my fiery-haired best friend as an assist in this strange, clambering game I have to face with Rosie so many times. Why does she... continue to do this... if I've already told her all that I can..? Is she like Jkonna, looking for answers too? Answers for what, exactly, anyways? To what the heck is wrong with Dino? Are they the Save Dino Club or something? I-I'm okay, I think. Geez.

She's whispering. Both of them are whispering. "D-Dino... what about my love, D-Dino..." "Diga-dear turd... someone slap that freakin' klutz for me..."

Something slams through gel on the outside and hits their little paw against Rosie because he's smarter than to go his hundredsomethinglong body in the starship. _R-Rosie! Wh-why do you keep committing to the same trials, the same journeys that aren't assisting you even a little in gaining Dino's love from him again? I t-told you he's in dire state b-but you don't listen... a-and you can't get him to fall in love again like that..._ Oh my gosh. Pippy. Thank you. You tell her: stop trying to get me to like someone. How many times do I have to tell you I'm done with that. Because I... I am. He's actually accepted it and it makes me so happy because he used to get so crazy about me and romance. Sooooo crazy.

Purple, stone-like orbs flick back towards me. _Perhaps it's wrong of me to feel this way, but I rightly so wish that you would find someone to help ease your pain; so that you may feel better soon! We all feel it, all five of us, yes, including our dear lad Iggy, him perhaps even worse via the understanding churning deep within his heated bones, and since none of us know what to do, well, we're all trying what we can to help you. I thought... if you found something in Rosie again—but I did not tell her to do this! Gahk! If only she didn't keep separating us from you and we weren't so stupid..._

 _I-I suppose you do have Jkonna, though... and your father..._

A gilded body springs through this time, golden and tiny like Pippy and shaking out her deep dark blue head, her eyes-of-same-coloring glittering toward me. _Oh, dear! That was really bad! What if Dino was actually getting better and we're only making it worse! What if we're all majorly hurting him without realizing and it's only getting worse now because of all of us! Aaaah, we might be doing something terrible, and it's... f-freaking me out! Wh-where are Droplet and Lone?_

 _I don't know, dear lassie! I believe the tea and crumpets were knocked out of them by Clay! Y-you know, R-Rosie's spinax... big and green and scary... one of the vivosaurs she always brings to block us out..._

Not even including Jkonna's muttering fuming, this gigantic mix of voices and sounds has become a mess that I've gotten tangled into, a jungle that's swallowed me whole and being the lost dope I am, I run straight in front of me and sort myself out of that mess as fast as I possibly can, soon finding the escape of the room next-door and tearing into its purple gel-like entrance where I find a certain winged soul not asleep but glancing out of the window lined up against his wall. Jkonna and I don't have one in our room, but we like it that way. A silvery pale blue hand, like soft snowfall, rests against the shielding that prevents the window from becoming a door that sucks us out there. Instead, we're supposed to be safe in here. Instead, it's not always so safe. My mood feels about as strong as a newspaper hat right now, and Rosie just dumped me into Bottomsup Bay. I scoot up and place my hand on the cool bubble of the window, next to my dad. He's not only taller than me but Diggins too, who I am slightly catching up to though we all know I won't reach him.

His long strands of white hair that Jkonna admires so much billow about him. Though they don't go to his feet, they're as long if not longer than Jkonna's own hair.

"Hey, Dad? Can you actually fly using your wings?"

His dark violet orbs peer at me a little curiously, a kinda light bobbling in them like what I said was silly. Probably was, knowing me. I can't really focus on stuff right now and just stare out the unbroken window. Very stable. Very not me. "Ha... I was wondering when you would ask such a question. In this form, no, I cannot fly, but in my battle form I am enabled to use slight, hopping flits that can assist in a much-needed lift for occasions."

 _Dino. Yo._

 _Oh my gosh why the heck are you talking._ See, this one, this voice, this guy is not my missing krona or nasaur. Both of them just happened to get trashed like ships plunged under the sea by Rosie's freaking air vivosaurs, so I dunno when they'll show up again. But I know they'll be okay; always have been. This, this voice is of Iggy. He's gay and his boyfriend's fossilized so it's just required for the job that he's depressing. Of course I'd be confused why this guy who almost never speaks has made a move now.

 _It hast come to my noticing that you have been trounced as well._

 _Dude, we've been over this; yeah, I basically have. Duna's gone... Rosie won't accept my decision and assumes I'll change if she keeps popping out of nowhere and attempting to keep me from moving until she gets what she wants... I just... I mean... I liked both of them and now one's gone and..._ Oh gosh. It's even hard to say it when I soften it up with the word "gone." I'm turning into Iggy. Realization hits me as I sneakily wipe a specific goop from my eyes that I am turning into this ancient who's really pathetic now because although he's like igno the fire beast volcano thingy he's just kind of hit the pit thanks to Thomas for having to be defeated.

I had no idea fire and ice mixed that well.

 _It is like... then... like what hast happened to your father, or... aah... What if Jkonna's body hast gone alongside your foolish entity, Dino? Then would my loss of Thomas amount to your—_

 _D-don't say that!_ Can we just not even skim by the topic of something happening to that crazy digadig cuz I really like that idea. Of not thinking about it. Of not considering it. That, that thought Iggy is trying so hard, squirming under the grip of sorrow, to address, that thought is like asking if I want to rip out my heart and feed it to the soul of no less than the likes of a stinky old t-rex. They're the fire buffs that people compare Saurhead too, and for the most part, you don't wanna mess with Saurhead—but dang it Droplet and I have a long, seething passion of hating that freaking vivosaur because she is not a rival of the t-rex I am pretty sure she could destroy it all herself. Without the help of Pippy or any of them.

Since I don't really have anything better to say, I shove Iggy aside with a _Go away_ and glance back up toward my dad, whose orbs watch over me calmly. "Well, that's pretty impressive still. It'd be kinda weird to see you fly on your own, but I can get you using your wings in battles and stuff."

"Son, you do realize I heard all that the mighty creature in your pocket had to say, yes?" Aw, turd. Iggy, why you gotta do this to me. My eyes suddenly and pretty unintentionally flicker to the soft carpeting below. "I will say that while it is hard, I have... other assets that allow me to continue on, even when I waken after a blissful sleep and all of it congests me again, and there is nothing I can do about it. While she had been lost to devices that will... never return her, and I never had the correct time to grieve other than losing all of myself to the loss of my children as well, I will never forget her, and there is not a moment I spend without longing for her. Dino..." Oh thank gosh he switched away from talking at that igno. His calm, focused tone, like that of warm, comforting snow, I guess living in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere with snow falling around peacefully and smothering that little universe in a blanket of white: it all goes to me. "It is not easy. Not at all. I understand... that while you do have the needed assets here with you... there is a shadow lurking that I did not have, only the sight of my beloved Amethyst gone forever in all but memory as well as the missing scene of my children—it was confusion and longing for me. I am afraid that the battle waging in you is destructive of your kind heart."

"Dad don't do it." Nope. Too late.

"While you may appear collected and foolish on the outside, truly your heart is full of the laughter that you have given to others, and therefore a weak core is established within you, one that can bend easily when others tear from you... and unfortunately there are too many paths one can take to cause such tearing." Uuuuugh stop calling me mushy and emotionaall. "I understand that your vulnerable state has been exposed and there is no true way to recover you that we know as of yet, all Jkonna and I are able to do is assure you that we will stay here for you... as well as Lone and the others, I am sure, while they struggle through the same ordeal, Son, you are not alone." His pale blue hand finds hold on my shoulder.

See, usually, when people go on rants and stuff I'll zone out once or twice, but, like, he's my dad. I actually kinda like my dad's rambling. It's strangely warm and comforting and oh that's creepy don't get so freakishly needy and clingy. Yeah, but, but he's my _dad._ So it's all good. Why do he and Jkonna both get such steep exceptions? I guess they're not horrible people. Not... well... not that horrible. Iggy mutters something about how dreadful my current attitude is and I try to act all tough but it crumbles and suddenly I'm trying to sneakily wipe at my face some more but it's hard when slate eyes and a pointy nose are all sort of... leaky. Crying is embarrassing. In front of anyone. It's like exposing yourself, completely and defenseless, to someone else, and I mean who likes doing that? It's uncomfortable, man...

His taller frame pulls me closer to him, now both hands against me. I end up with my head against his frosty blue shoulder, pulsating warmth through and into me from one edge. Lines of snowy white hair hit me in a few places, and it really reminds me of when I've hugged Jkonna before: hair goes everywhere. And it reminds me of when I'd first remembered how Dynal was my dad, and when he'd hugged me then and all of the obsidian in his eyes had cracked, because he'd seen through his own mass of darkness to find his son. I guess before that all he saw were a bunch of vivosaurs and something brown with fiery red-orange hair. Nothing really clicked until I showed up... and unlike Jkonna, I still looked like a dinaurian because psyche, I am one, and it took until then for all of those pieces to fit in. Unlike the puzzle with all the vivosaurs on it, the puzzle that Lone tried to eat, that one fit perfectly in the end.

I think... there's still that whole worrisome thing called my sister who I haven't seen for what did Dynal say it's been seventeen years or something? Well... she's been missing... and out of some clues I'm pretty sure she's possessed by an ancient such as the likes of Iggy or Thomas, so... we... have to...

What can we do, though? Is there really any... hope..? Iggy mutters something else in my head, but I don't catch it. I wonder if it was important. Probably not. Probably not... Gently shaking my head, I wince as I look up to my dad. "Are you doing okay through all this..?" It's not like I don't feel awful for all of the swings I'm going through, up and down and then mostly down because I'm not strong enough to make the swing go high, but I can't really stop them. As well, it's... not like I can really tell what's going on when it happens, and I'm not very good at making myself positive when everything exceptionally more hopeless. It's like going blind, I guess. I can't get better anymore on my own or something, and telling me things is useless because I'll just bump into a wall sooner or later. Which makes it feel really hopeless again...

And then Iggy's words chip off their dull, Iggy-coated sound and speak into me. _Thou hast truly become a hapless subject! How dost one save this tyrannical presence if they choose to live in the failure surrounding them?_ I don't even know what the heck he's saying, let's be honest.

"Son..." I'm shocked back into the moment when those lilac orbs sink into me. "It never is easy watching one you care for explore a cavern without light on their own, having no way or form of reaching out to help." I swear he's reading my mind. Or maybe he just sort of understands what's going on... since he did kind of lose his entire family all at once... And he's also my family, so, you know, similar genes and stuff. I know some families aren't exactly merry and whatever the heck it is, but some are... It honestly depends. Well, I really freaking like my dad. And... Dina did, too, before... stop thinking about it don't get emotional stop it stop it stop it okay all good false alarm. "To take the means of a journey without assistance is hard... but I believe that much of this trial of yours rests upon you, and while we can attempt to help you or harm you, only you have the final say. And I am afraid to say that in your vulnerable state, your final say is much... stronger than it might wish to be."

Dang, Dad, why are you so good at calming me. Why are you so good at calming everyone. Maybe he just sort of learned to do it... or... "Uh, Dad?"

"Yes, my son."

"Could you tell the story again? About you and Mom?" Hey, don't judge me; I like the story. It's helpful. N-not like it's because it's sweet and romantic or anything, ew... uh... I dunno how to respond to that. Good job, me.

And there it is: that light in his eyes. It feels closer than it looks. A lot closer. Then a random image of pink hits my brain and the light recedes. Dang it. "Of course." He settles himself again facing the window; I don't know how a guy can look so peaceful while standing, but he does it. "It was... long ago. Millions of years ago. Prior to stone sleep, to Guhnash attacking, years before that. I was not quite a child... I was... around the age of you and your sister currently, I would suppose." He's so hopeful and calming, even now... "Being the heir to the throne, as my siblings proved themselves to be too boisterous for other lifestyles than to rule over an entire population of people, I, being the youngest of the family, did not see much of others.

"My own mother and father were of late age. Their own children before me were much older as well; they had thought to find the righteous ruler and had presumed they found one until realizing they had to... try again. So they had much to teach me as their time approached. Eventually I had... snuck out of the castle in curiosity as to visit with these 'people' I were to watch over. I met many colorful personalities, but she had been the most predominant in my mind. I do not know when it was that I met her, but her radiance... her laughter, even at her own poor jokes... the way she boldly asked why I had wings—your own should come as age does as well..." I pout at this. Waiting is boring. "Well... it simply made me want to visit her again. Nobody else spoke so freely and happily about the world, even the brittle to breaking pieces of it, she would force a smile into it, no matter how tedious that smile may be.

"And as painful as her puns sometimes were, they always made me laugh... made me smile. She loved to sing... to sing about the brightness in the darkness. To laugh about the hardships... In serious situations she found a way to invoke a sort of smile on the faces of others. Deep in her, though... she always longed to be heard by an unwavering presence, one that would not leave, even if her jokes were to falter—although they never did to me. So I suppose... we quickly found an asset in the other. Amethyst liked... knowing she had someone who listened. And I enjoyed having someone who wished to speak with me.

"I taught her how to dance, once... in the light of the scales skies above... her voice rang so purely when she learned to dance alongside me... It had taken time for me to find that the feeling inside of me... the wish to... I did not know what, but that wish only brought me closer to her... and when my parents eventually became aware of her presence, they had warmly accepted her. We lived for quite a time as king and queen... after my own parents finally passed, prideful that they finally had found their successors... and it did not take long for the two of you to come along."

If you couldn't tell, yeah, I got a lot of me from my mom. I suppose. Sorta. But I guess I'm sort of calming like my dad too, but it's more of a foolish calming because I calmly make fun of things in the weirdest situations. Amethyst... uh... her hair was purple, and her eyes... and her chest, but her face and stomach were orange. And Dad always made sure to explain that she had a cute, short, but also somewhat chubby quality to her that he liked. My sister and I, he'd said, looked a little more like her, because of her I'm not as tall and as far as I know, Dina was pretty freakishly short before stuff happened, but we got Dad's sort of stature I guess. Jkonna has huge hips but she didn't get that from _my_ mom so...

I think her limbs were dark like mine are. And those were the stripes under her cheeks. Dark colored. "Amethyst wished for... many children... you and your sister were to have... many siblings... you two to be the oldest... and she looked so happy to imagine that world to come..." Dad quietly shakes his head. He usually stops when the story starts getting sad, but I... uh... I might like the first part a tiny bit. It's kinda funny... it's not that Dad doesn't miss his siblings, but he never really got to know them since they were all way older than him. The happy part is about him meeting Mom and the two of them finding... uh... happiness in each other... a-all that good stuff that totally doesn't make me smile stupidly.

The story's always a little different every time. Dad chooses what pieces to add to it as he goes along, cuz there's a whole lot to it. I might have to ask him to tell me the whole thing sometime, but I... think I'm okay right now.

Oh wait I'm not. "Oh, turd. Thank you for telling me the story again, but I just remembered that Lone and Droplet are probably backed up somewhere and I really need to go find them." Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea. Just. Just maybe. Maybe I should do that.

"Ha..." His sparkling orbs smile approvingly. "Yes, you should go, Son. Thank you for your presence." And I'm almost out the doorway of gel before he finishes talking but now my nerves are spiked. Droplet's gonna be so mad at me. Lone... probably won't care that much. But man, I better look out for a very specific water monster. Darting through hallways and maneuvering in a specific form so that I go past a small dip in the starship walled off almost completely, where a cottony pad is that proves Rosie came through the transport, and around here I should find... Oh hey. Look at the purple corpse.

 _DEAD! DEEAAAD?! WAIT WHERE'S THE CORPSE WHERE'S THE CORPSE I DON'T SEE A CORPSE WHO DID I KILL WHO DID YOU KILL DID SOMEONE GET KILLED?_ This is why I don't make many jokes around her. Swaddled up by glowing, soft tiles, the stick-like body, smaller than usual like all the others are, raises a purple-haired head with face danced in scales of lilac and holding up a cyan beak. Her just-as-bright orbs stare at me. Yeah, I dunno why, but Lone is seriously everything. Webbed toes, scales, I think fins somewhere, fur, a beak, a couple feathers. Also, she's nocturnal, which basically means that every moment she's on this starship she's even less likely to fall asleep or slow down, ever. Awkwardly plucking her by the scruff of the neck and dragging her around, eventually the thing regains her own footing.

 _Lone, I don't understand you._

 _LONE LONE LONE LONE._

 _Honestly? Same._ No, I don't know if I'm agreeing to anything at all. That's just my nasaur for you. As we hop around and scour for the scent of dead aquatic material—no, I'm kidding, she smells more like strong sea salts—Lone skitters on her gigantic two feet and I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to carry her since she's obviously tired. Help me. I'm becoming a softy, too. A gay softy Iggy. Oh no. It's the end of me. But in the end the weight is too massive so I scoop up my tiny ditz and carry her, her head swiveling like crazy and her chatter even faster.

Lone starts chirping similar words that sound like some crazy dance scheme until I realize it's the word _LEFT LEFT_ over and over again, so I backpedal some and turn and sure enough, passed out in the middle of the hallway in her own goop of dripping water, is a specific krona. Her sharp but higher-pitched tone recognizes me. Cheery.

 _Oh, heeey, Dino, I think I'm okay now. Uuurgh. Clay's nearby but please don't make me fight him, I'm seriously not in the mood._

 _Yeah, me neither, Droppie._

 _Y'know, I don't know why I started thinking about this now, but for some reason I'm just thinking about back when Pippy and I were alive a couple million years ago, when we had known a little about Iggy... and I think we were friends or something but it's hard to remember... uuuugh, ffuzzzzyyyyy..._ After I poke her belly, she shrinks, and you know what, I pick her up too. Weirdo.

During my peaceful enough stroll back to my room so I can reunite all of my vivosaurs and we all can share this new headache of mine together, and I can try to explain these weird emotions digging up junk inside of me, nothing much happens: Lone actually shuts up for once and acts all bleary like the krona also sharing up Dino arm space with her. They both, outta all of my vivosaurs, remember their original names from back when they were alive the last million or so years ago, Droplet being Droplet and Lone being Lone, while Harei didn't remember a single thing, Pippy does recall Droplet being in his life, and Iggy never actually had a name until I came along because he's a weirdo ancient. Same goes with Thomas, his gay counterpart of ice and sauropod.

On a really random note, I like the sound dinaurian feet make on these tiles. It's kinda like _fumm, fumm, fumm, fumm,_ which is all fluffy and cool, while Jkonna's just sorta go, _phap, phap, phap, phap_. Oh hey... what's that?

 _Foom. Foom. Foom... Foom..._

Uh... it kinda sounds like Pippy or Harei... oh wait, Droplet mentioned that Clay was around. Ugh. Freaking Clay. Being a huge and green-striped spinax, also Rosie's most favorite of her eighty trillion air vivosaurs— _She has like fifteen, just fifteen, tops, Dino—_ but I don't care, Droplet, it's more like ninety-five thousand. But anyways, Clay shows up in situations you don't want him to, so that must be why I feel hot steamy breath burbling down my spine. Something cold crushes me afterword and I drop my vivosaurs, splitting to the ground. What was that. Clay doesn't attack with cold weather. What was... that fee—oh it was fear never mind.

Stuck here, rendered useless by my own legs, all I can do is raise my arms and shield my fallen buddies, too tired to do anything else, from whatever happens next. Under the annoying breath of that spinax, all I do know is that his huge stature, too similar to the likes of a t-rex, will hurt me. Because he's probably mad at me for all I've done, and for all I keep doing. So I suck in a breath and close my eyes and wait for the tail to come: and it does.

 _WHAMP._

No worries, it doesn't hurt as bad as it sou—no wait no it stings. The rush of burning, stinging, and now tender flesh is all rumbling on my back ow, rippling in place and steaming like madness. And because this is Clay, of course it's not enough, the whoosh of tail soaring in air cracks again.

 _WHAMP! WHAMP! WHAMP!_

At some point or another my hand ended up in my mouth and my sharp little teeth chew into it. I think I was trying to stop myself from screaming or somethi—

 _WHAMP WHAMP WHAMP WHAMP WHAMP_

"Oh my gosh." It's... uh... a girl voice... but it's kinda hard to focus now that there's... _staaars_ everywhere... So sparkly... I try to reach for one and my head bangs against something soft, I think it's the floor. A dark, dark shadow coves over me and a flowery tone straightens out and if I think about it as it plucks the spinax from the ground and holds him as high in the air as his unnaturally huge form for the starship will allow, it might be Bliss maybe. Yeah... Jkonna's acro... or something...

Muttering. "I'm going to show that little Rosetta when she shows up... th-this is not how you treat someone... digadig... especially someone who you're trying so diga-dumbly hard to... I diga-don't even know... Ugh!"

The wall in front of me suddenly becomes very interesting and my gaze takes over it until it all shades into a dark black and all I know is that I'm even more lost than before.

 **Jkonna: ;w; But chapter 4 was so much happier, digadig. Why you gotta do this.**

 **Me: because Dino is in a bad place**

 **Jkonna: Then put him in a good place**

 **Me: -whispers- It doesn't work like that.**


	6. Ja: Rip

**Me: Hello friends. I think my laptop hates me because I started seeing ads and now I'm worried. OwO My laptop happens to like the thought of getting those really annoying and freaky ads so... I think they're trying to corrupt my life... TTwTT But anyways, who knows what's worse than scary ads all over your laptop?**

 **Dino: angry redheads**

 **always the angry redheads**

 **Me: Well, lucky for you, this chapter has nothing to do with ads.**

 **Dino: owo helpme**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 6: Rip

 _Jkonna_

However horrible it sounds I suddenly really want to do one thing and one thing alone and in fact for the most part it has nothing to diga-do with diga-Dino. He's like the side diga-dish. The main meal has slipped right out of my clay-colored hands for too long, like some shifty clay-hating creature that's all slimy and gross. See, this time, this time, I'm going straight for the problem and I'll pluck it right out using my bare hands and I will show stuff and things that are good will happen. At least, that's what I'd probably be thinking, or I should be thinking, if I was at all rational. The first sentence diga-did me well. Suited righteously for what I really want to diga-do, and what I really should stop before anyone gets... injured. Well, at first though, excuse me, my mind's not thinking that straight.

Something _crrrrrrrKKKKS_ behind the back of my head, and I pull out an uncaring arm to sketch at this. Fingernails grind. Soft, puffy brown pads itch. Sounds rattle toward the back of my head. I never quite figure out what I heard; sadly, I'm a little sure it might've been my temper. Or my sanity. And see, as wonderfully redundant as it is, my best friend diga-did happen to meet me in one of these circumstances. Cuz it was loud; and we both fell into that pit and then met and then our first thing we ever diga-did together was meet and name Pippy. It was pretty great.

It tickles my slimy wad of throat that should be safely gobbed in saliva, and it punches at my gut, and it diga-demands to be let free. And it's inside of me and it wants out and I'm trying to understand the situation that went underway but all I can really focus on is turd like "EVIL" and "DIGA-DUMB" and other helpful words of the sort, which really aren't helpful at all. Throbbing. Red. Oh yeah, lots of red. It dyes my vision red and it makes me wonder if my eyes were ever such a cold, not-really-calming-at-all-but-steaming blue in the first place. Something else cracks: fists, no less. Or maybe someone's skull... Nope. Probably just my fists seizing together.

Energy all melts into me and words sit hot like coals on my tongue. And I'm not really sure what I'm speaking besides fire, but it melts the business going on in front of me. I threateningly lick my lip, and I'm not sure it works but I feel a little more scary now. It all sets in. Clicks into place. I kind of release words and it all goes pouring out and it feels right, because there is nothing more the thing in front of me diga-deserves.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM! YOU GET AWAY FROM HIM NOW, DIGADIG! I SA—I SAID NOW! NOW!" Brown splotches hit the air. Hands. Flat hands. Whipping at moving projectiles which I have yet to hit. Hair swishes around me peacefully, makes me feel like a hunter in the Knotwood Forest. A hunter ready to show the world who's boss, and it diga-doesn't matter whether I lose or not as my blood pours hot inside of me and I feel my target yank loose yet again.

My face puckers and I toss into motion, moving faster than Pippy's tail, which isn't really impressive but there's no way this cold-blooded pest can match my speed so I'm not worried. A chill seeps diga-deep through my mind as a wave of heat floods me and fills me until I'm choking on my own breath and my feet splat out in front of me and something tugs in my grip. I think I grin, but it's hard to feel much but steam and fire in my soul. Hot. Molten. Mad. Mad. Mad.

"Diga."

Her head whips around. It's a girl. I can tell that much. Can't really remember the situation well now but that girl is not a good girl she's a bad girl. Toes kick into a flooring that's been drenched in stone. Everything has become stone and diga-dull and listless except for the fabric that's escaped into my hands that I now tug at a little giddily, cuz I've finally caught this rancid pest who's been spoiling everything when it starts to get better, even just a little bit. And sometimes when it's getting worse this freak shows up and she's only adding, _adding_ to his suffering, and that's all that really matters: hurting him. Hurting him. Whatever else wrapped up my life has fallen behind for now because all that matters is how she's been treating this boy she threatens with her... love.

If that's love, then love must be Iggy's molten, half-digested stomach cramps. Which means: what diga-do I share with him? Is she—is she trying to insult my feelings for him or something? The closeness we share? Is she trying to spoil that with her freaking "love?" Is she... is she... Diga-deep breaths, Jkonna... we've got her, we've got her... Finally, after those times he'd tell me about all that she's spoiled under her rotten touch, fingers diga-dig into flannel shirts that flop and make easy fish for my chains of fingers to latch onto. She was being pretty sneaky about it until the moment I arrived and was still there when she was, and like diga-disgusting t-rexes we tore at one another until now I leave her whimpering, and after quietly muttering insults I can yell at her again, this sniveling idiot, this diga-ditz who won't leave my heart alone, because she's messing with his heart: his heart is weak right now.

Out of everyone there ever was to toss that word at, why must it be him..? I-idiot... Choose someone else! Heck, choose your own vivosaurs, I diga-don't care as long as you'd stop wriggling around feebly in some attempt to stick onto diga-Dino and get under his skin, make him stuck with you... st-stop it... Stop it already. Just stop it. My vision blurs until the colors start to run and it's even harder to diga-distinguish anything. The red hint's muffled with other colors, the easily goop to figure out a simple blob of pink squirming in front of me. Recognizing that diga-ditz can't really help matters and my blood flushes again, teeth easily seen as curtains of lips curl back and reveal the shining mass of anger hidden just behind the white wall of brightness. It's only a soft growl that putters out from inside of me in my bent-over form huddling over her. She won't run away already and never come back. Why not?

I wriggle my fingers, trapped in a turmoil called too much pink fabric. Oh. She's stuck, because of me. Harsh shards of laughter _gyrrrrrnnnch_ inside of me when my mouth flutters in some sorta movement. Not sure what, but Rosie's eyes glow like heated holes burnt inside of her head. Fear? Yeah, fear. I faintly recall someone looking at me like that when... the ancients took my parents... and messed me up a little too and all that gunk clogged up my life tunnel. Of diga...darkness? I diga-dunno. A path that's mine, for sure. A path that... diga-Dino and I share together.

Then it can't be so bad.

A low, guttural noise rumbles inside of me again as I eye the thing in front of me, an involuntary squeak inking out of her.

Never mind.

It falls out from my mouth like an apple peel, which I flick out. No, that's not an apple peel, that's a tongue: my tongue. Itchy. Makes me want to rake my nails in it. Stress has gotten me into quite the tizzy of a reunion. Not that I'm all over the whole consideration of having convivial sweet nothing whatever stupid nonsense that have any sense of Rosie dug into them. Any sense of... freaking Rosetta. She's stupid. Haughty. Nosy. Thinks she can diga-do what she wants and tear into any little diga-delicate box of a time like it's her present and she can rip off any bow that might struggle to hold it all together, and now I'm hissing and feeling this sense of blackened, charred bits in me stirring because of it. I'll just say that there's more charred bits stirring in me than it's probably healthy to have. That honestly might explain a few things, like my uncanny overprotective nature of the diga-dude that's my best friend.

Ancients... my grandpa thinking it a grand old idea to summon some diga-ditzes of ancient vivosaurs... their roaming proving more diga-dangerous than it should be... the digadig chieftain himself killing my parents—and sure, we diga-didn't bode, but they were just about all I had... the feelings after... Him erasing parts of my past he felt I diga-deserved no longer... Living alone for those years before meeting diga-Diggins like a sort of runaway stray thingy, muffled hair, muffled ears, muffled life, can't hear the words yelling at me... the life trying to force me to listen again... Him sort of not really watching over me... Him trying to be there for me... Me stealing Tramp those times, Me meeting diga-Dino, Me not realizing what would happen in the end, Me blind to something wonderful that was about to unfold, Me about to be diga-dragged into the greatest part of my awkward, diga-dinky life, ever.

Me feeling my grip slip.

Rosetta.

Oh boy, complications, how about I stop thinking about them so much since it's so freaking awkward and messy. Charred bits stir and cut into me and my breathing rate practically inhales Rosetta from just in front of me, where she lies in a heap of diga-dinkiness that diga-does not surpass mine, even if her parents are tagged too with that loss _stupid Watcher; stupid chieftain; stupid, unholy pest grandpa._ All the same old diga-dude. He is most certainly not my favorite person in the entire world, just sayin'.

And suddenly it's hard not to think about the complications that bit me all over again. I've opened a rift to consider them in the first place. All focus soon balancing on a point of precarious result as in me, of course, lovely freakin' me not really. The words sort of diga-dig in and bunch up in me, the buildup of pressure and annoyance and hot, spicy feelings only addled to the mess of a soul, the mess of my soul, and all that I regularly prefer to keep bottled up within me because it's easier to ignore the gaping holes that way. Just diga-don't talk about it, not to anyone, not to diga-Dino, maybe it'll evaporate or something. Or I'll turn around and it'll run off like a stray idiot. Hasn't worked yet, but I have a little too much hope in stuff that won't happen.

Screw it. I'm gonna pull a diga-Dynal and not think about in in diga-detail anymore before I choke on a forgetful memory. Residue sticks not _to_ me but _at_ me, which is annoying, itchy, scratches at me all the way back to my tongue, and glazed pink enters my sight again past the haze as a chill etches against fingers that immediately begin to twitch.

And back to adventure. As in Rosie is evil.

That's just it: evil.

And everything snaps into the action it's been itching to hit.

Words roll like diga-dough on my tongue, my sticky spit befitting them, prime and ready, and I figure out what I want to call this menacing bum. Not even a word that can diga-describe her will suffice; a word that amplifies her, screeches _her,_ and it's not pink, it's never pink. "I hate you, Rosie." That sounds about right. Diga-Dino hates the sun; well, I hate Rosetta. D-diga-Dino...

It's easy for me to hamper on just how much I hate this pink blob of trouble. She's always been popping up in diga-Dino's life ever since the beginning, continually pulling him around everywhere, making him diga-do what she wants, stuff he probably only listened to because he wasn't sure what else to diga-do, so he lets this girl slave him around, and now she just keeps thinking she can show up whenever the turd she feels like, and now she's diga-destructing the life of the one I have to protect: seeing his feeble state beats my heart weaker, squeezing tears from my eyes and it hurts to see him like this, and only to understand that pink idiots continue to sneak out of my sight diga-doesn't help matters. Now that I've got her, what can I act on to keep her from thinking of returning again?

That's the problem: I diga-don't know. As much as I wanted this to happen eventually, it's not like I had it all planned diga-down, pins in set, freaking vivosaurs of pawns raised _I'm joking I'm joking_ , it's just this freaking annoyance who springs up out of nowhere and torments _him_ to no end. The _szzzch, szzzchh_ of fabric torn around holes of fingers diga-draws me into the predicament I've forced Rosetta into, and I can't help but give off the chip of a creepy sneer which curls around my lips frantically. "Ha.

"I hate you so much." Plucking nails from one fabric, I stick sharp enough edges into other areas to smear. "Diga... Why diga-do you diga-do it? You're annoying, you know. Ohh, digadig, you're sooo annoying. And I hate you. I hate you, digadig, I hate you so much." More tearing. Fabric scrunching around targets. Mouth watering of a new scent of vengeance to quench that black pit below, swirling in chips of stains, the one she diga-didn't start but contributed to, even after I found something that began to heal those burns.

Words sizzle as they dart out from under the shade of my blazing throat, containing a zesty, sassy, feline beast in a box for the voice and the voice alone to prowl. And I enjoy it. Just a little. "You know what you've diga-done, what you won't let stop, after I've asked, after you've seen his poor face... We all saw that face, when he woke up and the entire world came crashing on top of him. When he beat Guhnash and saved everyone and woke up and his own troubles revealed again. Y'know... you weren't one of the ones to stand up and help in getting him somewhere safer when he cried that first time. Digadig—you diga-didn't assist when he needed it. And now you plop in randomly and you're making it worse, you know that? Diga? You know that, right, digadig?" Somehow, I sound calmer than I feel.

Words sizzle as they continue to form diga-deep inside some diga-dank cavity or another where I get to tell this girl off for all the trouble she's caused for me, she's caused for _him_ , for all of it, and all I can see are those gems of magenta eyes cracking under some hotheaded thought of hers that she's better than me or something. In all honesty, I expected that, so I'm not too surprised, but finally I've pinned her and finally I can show her what scars she's gouged herself into the roads of life. Words spill out of me and as they go flying and she's sitting under that stunned, smug expression of upturned lip, crackling irises, bruised-red cheeks she caused herself outta me smacking her from the bed in the first place. Heat resonates and diga-dissipates from me, and once they levitate and evaporate from me for now, their shallow touches plodding at me and leaving me empty for now, Rosetta leaves me chilly and exhausted, but only for now, cuz something wriggles up in me and bites me, because there's no way someone like her will stay diga-down long.

Self-righteous Richmond blockhead.

Rosetta Richmond, why oh why has your grandfather not taught you all needed materials in life? Diga-Dino found him incredulous and old-man-like, which means an awful lot to him. Words dribble from the tips of my diga-dark, peachy lips until they won't flow anymore. And yet it feels unfinished, empty. Something rage-like broils just inside of me, but if I tap into those stuffed emotions there's no knowing where it'll take me.

A diga-droplet splatters and sinks in, and something slaps me cold across the face: only it's not Rosie. It's me. Me. Filthy, diga-dummy Me who, as elated as I am about all this, just sent a cooler chill inside of me, and now that's in me and it's not going away because I left him there. Sure I showed her, but she diga-doesn't even diga-deserve so much. She should just get the idea and go already. I stand up and the world sways, fabric _sckkrrrching_ in my moving and as I clean pink from me and try to step, resulting in jagged stars exploding upon me, a slithering voice sneaks up behind me, that of dried out sugars starched and salted, seeping to diga-depths I can't even find inside of me:

"You won't even trust him with the ditz you are, Jkonna. You know that, right? I'm sure you do..." She croaks again, then. "You just let it sit in you and ignite sometimes, and it only gets worse. Silly. Stupid. So stupid." I want to yell at her I want to yell at her I need to kick her I yearn to sink my soft flesh into her angles so that she feels exactly who she is inside of her.

Diga-deep breaths, Jkonna... Diga-deep breaths... Try to calm already...

No... Let's try to go above her level? Let's see how possible that is. One step. Two step. Three step. Four. Five. Breath, breath: stars, jagged, black, blinding intervals that poke at me teasingly. I grit some sharp biters and stab nails into diga-dark and peachy palms and press on like how I know how to. Okay, yeah, maybe I haven't gotten all sappy about my life and sugared up the sorrow meter for him, but there are more ways than explanations of life stories to forge those kinds of bonds. Stupid Rosie. Leave me alone.

Fuzzy ground patterns below me until I nearly pass out trying to speed up. Tiles tower creepily close and spin in circles just in the edges of my grip; my head's gotta pull up, though, before I lose it all and my consciousness blends into the glowing source underneath which is my foundation, my trip to the one I have to save, not my own trip of falling-and-failure. At this point, although I haven't turned back once and want no plans to, addled thoughts lump around in my head until I am wondering what'll happen to the weakened form of a pink girl of such insane standards that it's slightly creepy, like if my eyes and hair were brown too. Only they're not; and she... Okay, okay, I can't help it. I can't help it.

Why is it so much easier to brood over stupid Rosie than to worry about diga-Dino? Why diga-does anger come so naturally to me? And reactions, too? Bad... reactions? No, no: Rosie had it coming, and I'm sure she knew that much in her fluffy pink brain. But other reactions: forcing hot breath, volumes as diga-devouring as possible, loud enough to diga-dig into the squishy flesh and prod at them and leave them in worse shape than BJ, Before Jkonna. Words that strike flint on stone and smolder in my hands, which I always just so easily reach out and diga-douse a soul in. M-my most needed soul beside me, he never diga-does these things, so why diga-do I?

Cuz he's vulnerable. He can break. Easily. These charred ashes in me have smeared over my soul as I lived on, and now here I am, protected enough to protect him. If I diga-don't like it, well, I have to live on it, so no much choice. That's okay, though: again, it's... helping him, right? Without me, where would that diga-dumb Rosetta... Aaaand I diga-don't wanna think about it. Casually jogging, softly jogging...

Hey, where are my vivosaurs?

Diga-dunno.

Think they went after Clay or something. Serves 'im right.

A waterfall of emotions chillingly sinks into me the further I diga-dash from the general location of her, the further I go from waters of bathypelagic diga-descent to the shores ahead of me. Like a big, fat, swirling bay, I plunge in and out of waters that threaten to freeze my unlit fuse where all the ashes patter like raindrops into the edges of me, where all the ashes go when they burn up whatever it is in me that sparks this anger anyways. If I keep lighting up, how am I supposed to clean the gunk that's collected in me..? Maybe there aren't literal stains where I've been touched up here and there by this fueling feeling in me; it still clogs up my life and I feel it, I feel it, when I move, that weight in me when I stand up after sitting for a long time, its shuffling in me, spreading in me... What diga-does this anger get me into? Ashes. Lots and lots of filthy ashes.

Sloshing out of this sudden diga-despair, something pumps heavy in my heart like the water that's only metaphorically there has actually begun to fill me. And now it's collecting in me and all of this indoor negative energy, charging within me, must force my outdoors to look sickly too. Ugh... Diga-does this make me just as burnt as Rosetta, to get so toned out by these feelings and to let myself be kicked around by what's happened to him? But I guess that's the thing: she isn't where I am. Never will be, far's I'm concerned. I'm here to watch over him. That's what I'm diga-doing. And it keeps happening, but now I need to save him again.

And no matter how knotted and mottled other things might seem, as hard as it could become to swallow, as corded and suffocating as it'll vine over me and try to knock me over so that I'm stuck: well, none of that can hold me like he can. And so none of it can stop me. Whatever pressure's been fueled in me, whatever's gonna happen to all the ashes in me, whatever those floes of icy rivets in me might do, I can peel it all back so easily when he's in the picture.

Now he is. Black-and-orange form hunched over, head protectively wrapped by starry-night arms, legs bunched beneath him and tail lifeless to one side, now he is in the picture. Sighting all of this, feeling the flicker of gazes upon me, upon my sudden entrance that must've diga-disturbed what's going on to him and what continues to bite him here, eyes that can't figure out how to function lock onto that frame.

"G-Get up. Get up! Digadig—get—get UP! GET UP NOW! S-STOPPIT!" Of course he won't move. I diga-doubt he even heard me, now that I think of it. Words can't stop in flames that force them up and out of me. Knotted in my throat, they can only diga-do what they know how to: raise to my... credit. "I-I SAID G-GET UP! YOU JUST SIT THERE, DIGADIG, AND YOU DIGA-DON'T MOVE AND IT'S KILLING ME, YOU KNOW THAT? DIGA? IT'S KILLING ME... it's killing..."

It diga-doesn't take long. On the spot: I fall. Bent, chocolate legs under my semi-soft tunic which crunches beneath not my weight but the landing, and having no better solution, hands cup my cheeks and I try not to speak anything else. Coward. Can't even scoot any closer to him. Diga-don't have the strength to. _Gooood job._

Diga-didn't really expect it, but a response diga-does happen. _Dude. Seriously. It's all good in the hood so please chill._ Without its fat accent, it can't be Bliss, but she's the only one out of my vivosaurs who'd sound remotely like thi—oh it's diga-Droplet my bad. _We've just... rough times. And hey, you shut up. You're also a lot better at this than Rosie. Also you're more sanitary than she is. Why do I think that? Cuz I said so. She also wouldn't help carry Dino or... be near him... on that first night. So. Yeah. No._

Not really sure how to respond to all of this praise, I mumble thickly, _You're... trustin' me..? D-diga..?_

Her own tone is snappier and sharper, cooler, almost _refreshing_ , which is more than I can say. If I'm flame and she's ice, why diga-do we sound so similar anyways? _Well, yeah, duh. Of course I'd trust you! It's more than... him. I know you, too. I may look like a flabby water creature currently too tired to move on her own; still, I'd like to feel as if I deserve my own opinion. Plus, Lone is always blabbing about you. So that's already a couple supporters, not including... you know..._

Whether or not that was her plan, the chill collapses within me all over again, only this time it streams through me, fills me, overtakes me, and his name, the name we've voided over so plainly now, sinks into me, more weighted than all of my blubbering problems that can and will and will always diga-die before him. Not a leader, no, never a leader: a friend: only more than a friend: a best friend, only more. One that sits nice with wording under "best friend." Even though best friends sometimes result in Rosettas. I-I gotta prove that... c'mon...

The tiny and or nonexistent muscles in my arms contort, allowing just enough wiggle room for my body to bend and latch until I've wrapped myself tight over his taller and overall just larger frame: him being a tall male and all. It makes me giggle, just the slightest; words tumble in some sort of sorry apology. He hears none of this. He heard none of this. All he must register is a warm body hugging him. I've always been sorta warm, I guess. Warm enough. So that's... that's a relief.

It becomes obvious, sooner or later, that he's crying too, but it gets easy to tell when he diga-does this so much, and I'm the one to always come for him. I'm here; his diga-dad's here—well, not currently here, but here in a sense that blankets his shaking figure. Teeth grate over an unforgiving lip just to make sure I say nothing, and it seems to be... working. I haven't spoken a syllable to him; uttered a single sob. Working for sure... O-oh thank goodness.

Because they're stupid and loud, it's easy to hear the stamping of scaled or feathered legs on the tiles of puffy softness as heavy creatures, some heavier than others _Bliss,_ and easy to realize they've returned: thankfully without any vivosaur medals shoved up their gums. Then Rosie'd just stay longer, no thanks. _Heeeey, we're baaaaaaaaaa—_

 _Bliss, they're having a touching moment._

— _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—_

 _Bliiiisss!_

— _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—_

 _Oh, no, I think something was set on fire! Why is something on fire! Who did it! It couldn't have been me! No way!_

— _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack._

Then Foster adds on after his first remark, the whole reason this conversation started: _You forgot the exclamation point._ Thankfully, Bliss diga-doesn't act annoying and reboot her entire yell just to sound more upright and like enthusiastic or something the next time. It's not really her type. Acting bolstered. Bright. All that. Yes, she's a huge, shiny, earth-brown and slightly-burnt-gold creature of glittery scales; no, she cares not for any of it. She's like one of those vivosaurs that actually can diga-do something with literature and pretends those talents have been buried or something. Poor Bliss. If only she was all literature instead of gleam.

Gah. I snort under my breath; a cold stream of snot-less air procured under pressurized sound. It voids diga-Dino and I; it reminds me of what I'm supposed to be diga-doing here. In their diga-dummy attempt to sweeten the mood, the warmth I'm trying to tie together with my arms shakes a little very freakishly, unable to currently hold its own. My tongue flickers out like a flag. A flag of alert. Not like anyone else sees it, but I feel the gentle atmosphere wrapped over us and it traces against my tongue under a whisper of breath. I freeze in place; he can't, and therefore all I'm trying to hold diga-down flutters in place.

It's like I'm hugging Lone. Lone that vile, purple, tiny creature: she just slithers around and chats her beak off and she will not accept hugs and it's killing me on the inside. But of course, that only diga-drops my standpoint from a craggy cliff to canyons below, thinking like that. One small annoyance related towards that purple fuzzball only chains to the one I hold now, linking in the creaking _reeeeeEeEeeeeeEEEEEeeEEEEEEEeeeeeEeee_ as metal chaining flesh goes. Any heat that once laid in me has scarred from existence. Even in this feeble attempt to give off warmth and help, save him, I'm jolted and tossed in response. Words form inside of me, but I scarf them and protect him from the flares in me. Cold flares. How diga-disturbing.

Unable to escape from me and into the real world, they churn and burble within, knitting on their own in some ugly sweater of patchwork to blanket me and choke me in some effort at the emotions fueling them. Always the emotions. Always the words. Always the anger, no matter what temperature, tapered in me, to a sharp little point that feeds in on me. Oh, it'll stop... it'll stop after I release pent up feelings; its official end can't occur unless I diga-drop it all somehow. Release. But I can't. Oh gosh, I'm being hunted by my own feelings.

Words jolt and question my authority. Want to know why I'm so preoccupied. Why I can't give up already. Why go on when there is no end. Well maybe one diga-day I'll find enough release to explain this to him, and then it'll be okay: right now he's flailing weakly and I have to take precautions or all holy turd will take him, take me, maybe.

Quietly, the words: he was supposed to register it now, feeling lighter, upraised, _better_. And the opposite happened. Diga-Diggins wished to adopt me and to seal it sooner rather than later, and as stupid as it might sound, he needed to recover so he could be there too: and he hasn't. It's all collapsing in on me: this cold chill of loss eating up my soul; his feeble heat not enough to save me. _You should've been smiling right now._ That's what you're supposed to diga-do. And it's like... what? No..? It's that feeling the orphan child gets kicked into corners for, waking up and the parents are diga-dead; no matter what they meant cuz the whole reason you're alive right now, they're not. Corners aren't where I like to be, though. Corners are lonely and thin, folded in on themselves concrete emptiness save for the hollow bubble or two.

Is... what might... how could this all feel to _him_ , right now? What strange negotiations are going on diga-down there unto his soul? Has he backed into a corner? I'm right here, stupid, get out of the corner. No no—think like that and it's already over. Remember Rosetta. Almost took him away. She's not allowed. I have to be higher than that, stilted or no, I have to raise higher than that or he might cave in on himself and I can't let that happen. That's like commanding my own heart to kill itself. Herself.

Diga-don't go... D-diga-don't go... stupid...

Incredulous thoughts bubble in me and generate a sudden charge of energy. What _is_ this boy going through right now? Am I supposed to ask him questions—will that make him feel better about himself? He's sunk and how diga-do you recover a sunken ship?

I realize I've lost momentum. Diga-deep breaths; easy breaths. My arms that had thinned and stretched and crushed myself, maybe clipped at him some, tug home more and rest around gray scales that make up his chest. Soft spines of black, curling hair brush over spots of my rich skin shading, his face lolling against me. My hair, crazy like straightened flames, has scalded over him in spots; I wonder if those places burn any warmer over him now? Icy blue orbs, kinder than you'd think, thank gosh for diga-Dynal, as he gets it, narrow upon him and watch his figure. Slumped. Almost like he's given up, but I have a sneaking suggestion caught up my throat that he's still gonna fight a little longer.

A small pond of diga-droplets sewed into baby puddles sprinkles over his head from underneath me and connects in between spires of hair. Where diga-did that come from..? Not sure... how... how weird...

Bomba begins to say something but Foster elbows her. How diga-did a fin diga-do tha—

Stop... calm down. Again. Diga-deep breathing. It looks like he's not okay but he actually is. Like a brownie. Brownies, crumbly and useless outdoors, hold the love and sugar indoors of their beautiful and chocolatey concoction. And sometimes heat still gathers with the moist and out plops a gregarious get-together of some of the finest and freest ingredients ever. Maybe... maybe he'll be like that too. Suddenly breaths catch up and hitch in my throat, causing me to force big, gasping breaths followed by a wheeze or two as I try to hold in there.

Again, I bundle up the slumped creature in front of me. My head nuzzles over his and arms seize over him, tighter than I thought my tiny stick-like limbs could go. In some curious attempt maybe I'd try to diga-draw away and see how I respond, but not even that is allowed by my body. Just... holding him close without his moving; my need to hang on. My head lies over his soft spikes, the small line of juicy orange tickling against me and strangely wetting very fast.

I... I want to protect you, okay? I want to protect you...

I know I'm bad at it, but I haven't wanted a single prospect more than this.

So if I keep trying at this, maybe I'll get better. And maybe if I learn from all of my cringe-worthy mistakes, I'll be able to save you. And then when I save you, you can help save me from all the ashes inside. Okay..? Okay... I'm sure if you could talk right now, you'd agree with me, diga-Dino.

At some point, multiple patters of feet gather round us, and it comes to me that I really hadn't seen quite a few specific scaled creatures lately: namely some three vivosaurs. Surrounded by them in shadow and just the tipped edge of I think... something very... diga-deep, as if diga-drowning in something too sweet and strong and crowned in that feeling of starched sweetness, the inability to breathe but the ability to regulate breath and somehow stay afloat. Long fronds of snowy finger-like warmth streak across us: hair.

"Oh, dear..." A whisper of softness backed in a peace that has been pressured. Not like it'll snap, but like for a moment, if that path had gone on, diga-danger would be near. But no diga-danger. No diga-danger right now. Maybe Rosie's gone by now. That would be very awesome. Somehow, I diga-doubt it. Which is diga-dumb. Since she's gone and all. Cold anger ebbs and flows, but that's pretty much corded off and diga-done, too.

 _I, um... I think we've majorly pieced together the story, or we can, betwixt the finality of us._ It's a lame response, but it's still got that freaking accent, so that I can label as Pippy because nobody has that accent I swear. _It started with Rosie breaking in, yes? And we were off doing things because most of us weren't in the mood for rest... Namely because of Lone... S-sorry, Lone, but it's true..._

 _Oouu... ouuuh whaa? Well diddly durn I think I'm sorry yes maybe sorry a little tiny bit sorry sorry sorry?_

 _Kill me. Now. I'm serious. Kill me._

 _I'm with you, Droplet._

 _Aahhh! Droplet! Aaa-aand F-F-Foster, please don't go to such circumstances! I apologized a-and then she apologized, so it's okay right now... but anyways, I believe we were all sectioned off by her air vivosaurs, including Droplet by Clay, that foul spinax... H-how dare he..._ I've never heard Pippy go so guttural. Strange. _W-well anyways, after that came and went, Harei and I caught onto things and with our ability to best air vivosaurs more easily, us being of earth, we raced to try and stop her but it had already been too late; and there she was... R-ruining poor Dino..._

 _Pippy. Geesh. I didn't want to cut you off earlier, but please stop acting so regal about me and stuff, it feels weird. We all know how I feel about Lone... and about poor Dino, as well... ugh. W-well. Well then. Going on... I did happen to be with Clay, and I think Lone'd been nearby but she was knocked out too. And Dino, I think he'd been with his dad a little bit, judging by what we've all heard. So that happened. Then he came for me and already had Lone and he carried us, I mean carried us, back... until Clay showed up again. Excuse my language but he is the biggest ugliest turd ever._

 _Of... of course, my friends... I-it's okay. B-but yeah, after Pippy and I went off... and then Droplet and Clay... I think I saw Jkonna, she'd run after Rosie after saving him... and she was really mad. We know not to m-mess with her when-when she's m-mad, right..? We-well... it was bad... you could say..._

 _Hmmmmm? I wonder... yeah... Maybe she knows who sets everything on fire..._ _Because she can... she can really reaaaaally get mad, I dunno. But after that she'd run back here... and she started hysterically yelling at Dino, then cried and collapsed like she wanted him to come to her, but he was in no state to do that, maaan, poor guys, but then she hugged him and she cried all over his face and I think she's calmer now?_

"Ah... How... frightful. What a relief we have recovered them now. All I can safely condemn is... that both children are safe enough to still breathe and still seek one another... and to acknowledge that... what my son is going through will desire more than a smooth recovery. He needs... more. I believe he needs his dear friend with him, of course... and other things, as well... And we must be there for him. We must help him. We must...  
save him..."

 **Hello! Just random curiosity, did any of you actually think back in that last chapter or so ago, when Jkonna was all IT'LL BE OKAY I THINK WE CAN DO THIS (chapter 4), that she'd actually do it and Dino would get better by the time Diggins wanted to officially adopt her? :3 Heh... unfortunately, that doesn't look like it'll happen very soon.**

 **But what will the valiant ones do? We'll have to see... how they'll save him. Or if they'll save him? Or if something much bigger than Dino and his needing saving is going on... x3**

 **Droplet: -TOO MANY OPTIONS. JUST TELL ME ALREADY. PLEASE-**

 **Me: Droplet, oh my gosh, chill.**

 **Pippy: -Yes, please! I worry for you, Droplet! I oh so worry for you!-**

 **Droplet: -oh how sweet- turns away and flees**


	7. Ja: Let's all go Home

**Jkonna: Diga-do ya think that Rupert and diga-Dina get lonely without any attention on them? Diga?  
**

 **Me: not really. They're probably happy they get privacy from the likes of you. And well the likes of everyone. Whether they realize it or not, their feelsy moments of romance are being spied on by lots of people, so...**

 **Jkonna: BUT IT'S FUN TO BE WRITTEN ABOUT**

 **Me: Not to everyone.**

 **Jkonna: IF I THINK IT'S FUN, EVERYONE MUST THINK IT'S FUN!**

 **Dino: I THINK I'M GOING TO TRUST THAT LOGIC!**

 **Rosie: -hopefully steps near him-**

 **Jkonna: -tackles her to the ground and drags her away-**

 **Dino: … okay then.**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 7: Let's all go Home

 _Jkonna_

I can't believe I let him trick me into diga-doing this without it even being a trick in the first place. His words, like rays of sunshine in the middle of a cold, vast, nexus of space, have forcefully lightened me and've gotten me into the thinking that this might be a good idea. I officially diga-don't know what the word "good" means anymore; I have diga-disowned it from my life. Because that is most certainly possible.

Annoyed by the odorless stench waddling beside me, my nose plucks into the air and buffets sweet but not sugared and homey scents that come from diga-dinaurians after you grow this used to them. I used to wonder if spending this much time in their technical house would make me one of them, too. Apparently not. Diga-Dino probably likes it more that I stayed the same. Right now, though, I can't tell what he'd prefer, because I'm out of his sight: oh, and diga-Dynal's sight, too. All the sights. He's the reason this all happened anyways. Sometimes I wonder why my best friend just had to have the best diga-dad ever, which therefore technically makes him my diga-dad too, and therefore when these things happen, I'm stuck with it and believe it because he's awesome, and why diga-does this guy have to be so awesome? Seriously, bro, I'd love you even if your freaking diga-dad wasn't diga-Dynal. Chill.

But that's what he, the diga-dad himself, wanted me to do: chillllll. But I can't. I. Can't. The thing wobbles by my side like it's scared of me and my lips twist into a smirk. She shirks back very quickly, fast enough to make me want to laugh, but she's not allowed to make me laugh, so I scarf the feelings back diga-down where they belong _not really._

"Stoppit Rosie," I mumble. She diga-does not stoppit one bit. Shaking. Annoyingly shaking. Pruning at her tattered pink clothing I ruined all on my own because of how annoying she just so happens to be... more than annoying...

 _Jkonna, you seriously need to calm down. I mean it. I don't wanna put the foot down. You know I don't wanna put the foot down—_

 _I STOPPED CARING BLISS._

— _but if I have to drop the foot on your crazy needlework to make you stop and think, I will. You bet. I will._

 _I stopped caring yesterday._ That was so bad. Seriously though, she hadn't made bad sewing puns in ages and she's going to reopen bleeding ear wounds if it goes on—bleeding ear wounds I thought wrong might be safe now, but in reality they will never be safe since Bliss is in existence.

 _You seriously. Seriously. Seriously you need to calm down._ And she's back to making sentences that diga-don't sentence. Great. I can feel my orbs pinching from where I stand, my legs the only clay walls holding this mess of Jkonna in one piece. Bangs shadow over my face as is and probably shadow it more than what's good for me.

But what is good? _Aaaah, that is the que—_

 _BLISS. STOP._

 _Aw, that's mean._ Morie, being her respectful self and keeping everything from her preened feathers to her tropical beak in check, raises said mango-like beak and pokes at me in my head a little. She's like a voice in my head, only I know she exists and I feel the lifeline pumping in her, the one connected to me. Considering that helps slow this portion of life some. _C'mon, Jkonna, give her a chance. She's just being her rightful self. Although, I guess you're having a hard time and all... Hmm... Oh dear. Does that make 'us' the bad guys? Yuck. I'd rather we weren't bad guys!_

My finned idiot with a long neck—it must be mentioned cuz it makes me feel like it makes him a little more vilified—just saunters on into the telepathic conversation. _Did someone say 'bad guys?'_ See. Perfect moment. He's not a particularly cool or hot bad guy or anything, but he's Foster the futabi, and that's all the support he's getting.

Because I diga-don't know what else to say, I screw up my face at my own self, or, well, the voices floating around in it, not sure what kind of words to punch into them until they punch in themselves. And I roll with it because they sound pretty fine to me. Not good. Never good. Nevermore. _Why do you guys continue to... pester me abou—_

 _Bliss, I'm really really lost again. I mean... it started when I thought I could smell smoke but didn't. Darn... who's been setting everything on fire all the time? Honestly, that's started to get a little bit annoying, just saying! Either way... what happened? I'm really really lost again._

 _Are you really? Geee. Not like you said it twi—oh my gosh that's like polysyndenton or anaphora or something literary yeesssss. I love literary devices. They're like the marshmallows in grain cereals._

 _Bliss, I stopped caring five seconds before you said anything._

 _Well, gee, Foster, are you telling me to start synchronized rhyming again? In the state Bomba's in, I sure garner I could get her to rhyme too, and then what would you do? Oooooooh, was that a sign? "Too?" "Do?" You think it's a sign? I bet it's a sign._

And she pauses, too, like it's something memorable. I'm about to try to haul this shipwreck somewhere useful when out of nowhere the scent of burnt sea salt tumbles up my throat. Suddenly my breath, every time I breathe, releases that stench just the tiniest bit. _Shut up. You're acting like Jkonna again. Getting so emotionally distressed. I'm serious. Shuuuut up._ There are times when I wonder why that orange-finned useless fat long-necked over-achieving blow off futabi continues to hang around me. Then I diga-decide it's because he's the only bit of sanity we've got that's keeping me afloat, and there's probably no chance of finding scum more grounded than Foster, so thus he stays.

His words begin to sink in. _WHAT DIGA-DID YOU. JUST. CALL. ME?_

 _See? I'm right. I'm always right. At least, more right than the acro._

 _HE IS NOT MORE RIGHT THAN THE ACRO. HE IS WRONG. I WISH A POLYSYNDENTON WOULD, RIGHT NOW, FALL OUT OF THE HEAVENS AND CRACK HIS SKULL OPEN._

 _Bliiissss, whaaat's a polyysynndenton thingyy?_

Morie mutters something I can't quite catch. I think she's annoyed.

Well, I'm annoyed too.

A voice, my voice, of sharpened lightness singed in heat, spirals and attacks with a mutter: _Sh-shut up over there! YOU THINK I CAN'T HEAR YOU, DIGADIG? WE-WELL... d-digadig, I-I can! S-so shut up!_ They're all being so annoying again. Morie gets it. Rosie hasn't made much sound for awhile now. Maybe I should be worried but most of my thoughts aren't actually on her, so... _I know you're talking about me, too... I-I know you're all j-just freaking annoyed, too, okay! W-WE'RE ALL ANNOYED!_ And honestly, I diga-don't know what else to say other than repeat those last few words a few times, so that even those as clueless as Bomba get just how I feel. Fuming. Steaming. Ugh, stop it. Stop steaming. If only I had a less useless water vivosaur; although maybe even diga-Droplet couldn't save me from my own temper.

"J-Jkonna..." Tight and tampered as rosebuds, sharp just to the thorn's edge but impossible to diga-detest, just about, by the thickening sense of petal and perfume; but not silky like a lily—diga-don't listen to me, Bliss, stop acting weird—because this is a rose. This is the sorta thing only roses, sharp and squeaky roses, could pull off. "You know we've been standing here f-for like t-ten minutes, riiight? We... we already made it to Doug's b-basement and everything!"

Rosie. Of course it's Rosie. Not many other options, just saying. Except for maybe Diggins's girlfriend, who, so long as he plans to stay with her, and he'd better, I guess is sort of my mom now? Or, will be? In a way? Gee. Wonder how thrilled she is about that. Probably not at all. No, that can't be true; about half the reason that turquoise-haired diga-ditz ever realized she was there for him was because of me, and diga-Dino, too, before he... well... that. He and I both wanted him and Vivian to be together, although only slightly for more reason than the fact that they have matching hair and eyes: both turquoise. Only she's pale and cunning; he's... relatively darker than me and not very mischievous at all.

So you know perfect couple. Funny enough, they kinda are: and without us realizing, Vivian diga-did like the diga-dude a hecka lot before my best friend and I had come into play. As it's getting hard to remember such things, I diga-determine that it's time to stop thinking about stuff that won't happen before bawling diga-does happen; and it will; if I diga-don't... hurry up already. The last straw knocked over for my needed motivation to take a scene is when one small raptor to the other whispers suspicious words that remind me of just how stressed I am _wreckonna_ and, yanking that pink diga-ditz along with me, we move.

And trip. _CraaaAAAAAAaaagh._

No guarantees.

Somehow, I manage to force both of our bodies up without another accident. At least, I think it was an accident. I diga-didn't try to trip the pathetic morsel; but who knows, maybe she's out for blood. Okay, I know I used a sadistic word to label the pink one strewn to my side, like she's my other half, the Rosie half, under lack of more fitting Rosie term, still, though: I called her that because she's nervous and awkward and can't handle herself a lot of times, and therefore she is not me. She's also horrible at invoking anger like say me; her emotions reflect whatever the heck the other guy's spewing at her.

I'm pretty sure that's how she snuck into his life. She tried to act loud and rambunctious and be that guy surfing the diga-Dino wave alongside him, and well this is about how far she got. This is when her wave crashed and the foamy goodness—if that's even what it could be called—spiraled out from beneath her and now she's laying flat on the crumbled sand of broken diga-dreams: these diga-dreams that she will never fulfill. It'd be diga-depressing if she never went for something she actually could reach that made sense. Yes, I'm still on edge about her. Yes, it's probably my fault because bad temper. No, I'm fine with it. Diga-doesn't matter too much.

Though, I diga-dunno if Rosie has the strength to wipe us both over. Honestly, it must've been a team effort. This is why we're not as close as I am with say my... uh... best friend. No, there's probably some hidden secret reason why she always, always mimics the diga-ditzes around her and it diga-doesn't even matter who, like she's a diga-deranged vivo—oh, like she's Lone or Bliss maybe, but whatever that reason is, it's buried treasure and she won't unearth it and I honestly can't say I care as much as I should.

Because this is starting to get redundant and that glare freaks me out, I tug at the abandoned pink one and she follows: magenta orbs flicker from heated stare to hopeless cause repeatedly. Creepy. Creepy girl. Creepy Rosie. But anyways her hand sticks against mine and squeezes its brownness rather powerfully like she wants to control me, a clay figure she can mold into whatever it is her heart so diga-desires. Oh, turd, if that was true, she's make me be him. My best friend. Diga-Dino. Why the heck is she so obsessed with him of all beautiful and lovely creatures; why stop at the junk diga-depot when right beside are gems of all sizes? Well, no, that's not nice. But I can't say I care.

 _Jkonna. Care._

 _Foster. It diga-doesn't work like that, digadig._

 _Jkonna. I bet it does._ His turned-over whatever tone diga-digs into my skin and diga-dares me to make another move. We tread carefully on this chessboard, because if either of us trips, the other one can call it out and who knows what strange diga-deeds might come out of it? This freaking futabi, flashing his orange-tinged scales so royally in the air, like he's the triumphant water vivosaur when actually as I think about it I know multiple others who could fill that role and you know what that includes diga-Droplet and Lone and others I can't really think of right now, but honestly, he's just annoying. And it's very easy to find something annoying these diga-days. Unfortunately to yell at him wouldn't diga-do much good, whatever that could be; I'm pretty sure by now that this long-necked idiot is tone-deaf or something.

"J-Jkonna..." Tugging. Squishy pink fingers plucking on and pinching at enriched, dark skin as the other hand, just as shaky, raises to point out the box-like cage we have begun to traipse through. Gigantic, of course, able to hold perhaps five full-size hundredsomethinglong Pippies at one time, quite the feat, the silvery and purple-carpeted walls and floors of the Fossil Center basement never cease to ponder me: why so huge? He only has like three inventions: the transport to the starship we just removed ourselves from, a geometric pad design thing where he actually should be working, and... a covered probably unfinished so it's smoking thingy tumbled up in the far corner. Also lots of random scrap metal thingies in the other far corner, so many thingies, where, studded in the midst, splay two brown-stuffed spinny chairs.

Memories: a boy and a girl on top of those spinny chairs in a sudden, diga-desperately bored attempt at something else, slammed the chairs in as one to diga-distract the diga-doc as they forced themselves upstairs in search of Vivian to try and get them together. It diga-didn't work. None of it worked. I tackled him. Diga-Dino pulled me off, or maybe it was Harei. Vivian accidentally revealed her diga-disappointment, so still worth it. The boy, back then, hadn't known he was a prince, let alone a diga-dinaurian. But the girl had been accepted again as a digadig, begrudgingly by a grandpa who still refuses to reclaim her. But that's okay.

I found people who diga-do claim me: a multitude of experiences and feelings and sunshiny feels everywhere to glow over and guide me, such an abundance so that I never have to remember the one I diga-don't want to.

Pink tugs at my blurred, memorable self, so I move for her, to shove us outside the massive _vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring_ diga-door of stricken red, up flights of stairs, so many they're practically winged to which Bliss smirks and Foster groans, metal on metal and plum carpeting that squishes like grapes beneath tattered, bare feet on both of the present females, until eventually nobody falls off a guardrail and has to start over and we somehow hit the summit. I will never understand why there are so many stairs and corridors underneath this simple diga-dome building. Last I checked, diga-Diggins wasn't a creepy spy. Although... crazy things happen sometimes. Like, oh, you know, the accidental creators of humans _diga-dinaurians just saying_ show up and get mad because their leader lost his son and daughter and he's gone a little crazy _yeah diga-Dynal has a rare scary side_ and then we all have huddle in said basement as diga-Diggins attempts to start a transport because he is insane like that.

Maybe I shouldn't call my soon-to-be-dad insane.

Too late.

Not like I diga-didn't already know or anything.

"Ohhh, sweet air!" Under the _thuk_ of finality, a sheen of diga-door slams shut behind me and catches a swatch of dark toga fabric but I diga-don't care I am free. Until a step shoves me into purple carpet and metal. Then no, I'm not free. "ROSIE, DIGA-DO SOMETHING! DIGAAAAAA!" Thankfully, that's a pretty great backup plan and pink fingers fly to latch over and unhook my new digadig-stealing-monster-guy so that I'm not kidnapped and fabrics allow me to move freely. I sneer back at that shining, gloating surface and mutter, "I bet I diga-didn't taste good," and stutter on back to fall in place with her of all people. Yeah, but she kinda saved me just now, so maybe that's where the random spurt of humor came from. It'd be easier to laugh it out if _he_ was here. But he never is. And Rosie's only making it wo—

 _I told you she's crazy._

 _I don't think she's that crazy, Foster! I, as one of Jkonna's fist vivosaurs along with Morie and Bomba, as in not-you, praise upon the power of the polysyndenton to shoot heavenly fire down on top of this unholy futabi!_

 _WHOA. WHOA. Bliss. Calm. Diga. Down!_

 _FOR THE QUEEN OF MY KNIGHTHOOD! AAAAAAHHH!_ The squishy sound that follows allows me to believe someone is trying to crush the life out of a watery creature that can't diga-die: as with any other fellow vivosaur. He'll just... diga-decompose... whenever he diga-decomposes. But he'll be around for a long time before that. I also have a backup source for why this is true because diga-Droplet sits on Lone a lot and the purple thing looks the same to me. Then again, with purple things that have scales and fur and webbed toes and feathers and a beak, there is no "same" or "normal."

My gaze laps back at the shore of where I can see Rosie. Her pink blur of a body easily picks up in my sight and just stares back at me, like I diga-did a bad thing, but that wasn't my fault. Again, the words come to me, the ones that diga-Dynal told me to steer me on my way. He wanted me to diga-do this anyways... wanted me to not have to wait... wanted me to find a way to release all of this hysterical energy... maybe while I'm at it act nicer at her... Fists clench and unclench like seashells on my hands, oysters cracked and repaired and cracked and repaired, caked in diga-dirt the color of my skin.

 _Squeeeeeeech._ Bliss. Oh my gosh. Diga-don't actually _try_ to kill him _not even I find that funny geez._ She tiredly mumbles something over her rough tongue that has to do with metaphors and similes and lots of shining armor, knights, I think, knighthood, whatever it is, and also the squeezing bagpipe noises of a futabi's... lungs? Diga-do they have lungs? Considering he's okay with living on land, he must have something. Something that squishes and sounds like bagpipes.

It's easy, in a rush of motion, to feel his eyes on me. I glare towards the ground because it's easier staring at fuzzy, mashed up carpeting than it would be to stare him back, nothing but a sack of Rosie by my side. His eyes; then, probably somewhere near, her eyes, too. She hasn't been far behind now that they're a thing. Vivan's so pale; I guess my skin kinda works, then, only diga-Diggins is kinda darker than me, so adding her in... probably makes sense. Only my hair. Fire. Lots of fiery colors that should've been diga-doused by their turquoise combined, only I'm not actually literally related to them so it never will be. My eyes are light and blue, though, so that sort of mixes well. I think. Rosie, why are you still here? Go home. Go home or something. You're just standing here in an open chamber, a diga-door out of it not even ten steps away and I'm sure your grandpa is like looking for you _stupid._

The single voice paying attention to me gently calls. _Jkonna, you really are stressed. Please. Calm down. You're worrying everyone... and you've been worrying Bliss for some time now.. and Rosie's worried too... and—Ooh. You just fell, you know. Your knees embedded in the ground... I think you're trembling... Jkonna..._ Morie, of course, notices things when I'm simply diga-done... and can't anymore. Eyelids have offered the luxury of preventing me from seeing anything, anyone. It's quiet, now. Voices murmur, but it's still so quiet. _You really really are going through a lot... So try not to pull yourself apart like this before you even get a chance to show them.. show them anything._ The m-raptor of varying green feathers has such a simple, rhythmic, methodical tone that just circles round and round and round... Her beak clucks as she tries and fails to garner attention. Her words swirl in my head, and they're quiet, too, even when everything else isn't. For a moment, I feel a whole lot like diga-Dino, because he'll diga-do random things like this too, sometimes. Well, he... used to. Used to...

 _Why are you... talking to me right now?_

Mango orbs blink. _Um. Because we're almost one and the same. And everyone is worried for you and your state. I think your own emotions very accurately reflect Dino's. Also, you know the situation with everyone else: Bliss got all knight crazy, Foster's now her steed, and Bomba is begging again to be the squire but Bliss wants her again to be the prisoner. I think she's agreeing, now. That's not very nice, Bliss._ A sigh so calming it almost brushes me over. _I'm more worried about you, though; everyone is. Hmmm... isn't that the special part of Vivosaur Island?_

Hands that are open splay out somewhere. For all I know, Rosie's finally scrambled her way out of here. If she knows what's good— _fine fine—_ for her she'd go diga-disappear behind a rock or somewhere nice and far away. Take a vacation. Run along to that... what was it called... Caliosteo Isles place where Pauleen lives, I think, hard to think right now, and well they both have pink hair so they'd get along fine. Pauleen's grandpa is Watcher, too. But that's not because we're cousins; well, then again, he's not really my grandpa anymore since he was like no and knocked me off and whatnot, that old... coot, and... well... I guess my only family now towers over me and also hangs around in space.

Diga-Dino and his diga-dad... and I suppose... if I wanna look at it in that way... the two who diga-decided to slump diga-down in front of me in my position, just so that we're all the same level.

They're technically my parents now? Wow. Weird thought. Brain hurts. Haven't had parents for a few like ten maybe more years gimme a chance. Owww. It honestly, like a hardened core, diga-does throb in there, and something knock-knocks, maybe my imagination, on this new little tidbit on the life of Jkonna: she officially has had two pairs of parents. How great. Ugh. Parents. I hate that word. Makes me wanna spit the syllables out and never use them again.

"Jkonna..? D'you hear me? You're acting a... little... like... uhhgh, what was it.. I just has it... I just had it..."

You'd be surprised how often this happens. This poor guy and his total fail memory system.

"Y'mean Dino... Doug?" Diga-Doug. Oh yeah. That's his legit first name, but diga-Diggins: it's better. Although Vivian probably abuses it, so it balances out. Being his diga-delightful girlfriend and all. I can feel her permeating gaze travel up my also slumped figure, diga-doorways of eyes, all closed up, the clam shells forcing my hands into shaky molds of nothing, really. How great a mom would she be? About to... find out? O...kaaaay...

Silence. Then; "Oh. Yes. Him. I worry about him. I'm sure you do too, but I really worry about him. Jkonna... she watches over him, or at least tries to... It looks like it's catching up to her, though, like it's catching up to him, too. Now we just have a couple of tuckered out kids. Really... makes you pity them." The brownie, the brownie just like me, and I feel a pule of a twinge in my heart at the thought of it, he... pities us. Somehow, it's like an energizer in my heart which therefore pumps more blood and therefore it's not just the very vulnerable and emotional center of me flourished in warmth, but really it's all of me. He has a rough edge to his touch of tone, and that little stilt that's probably called diga-doc mixed in there. And the pauses. When he forgets turd. What part of that voice diga-does lovesick Vivian, oh diga-dang, adore the most? Hmm... I wonder... No idea.

Because I can't help it, because he's practically a piece of me, because there's no way I can get through a moment without him: I wonder what he would diga-do if he was here and he was okay, and not hurting on the inside and then making me hurt on the inside too; although it's not really his fault. Because he hurts, I hurt. Would he hurt for me?

Once I almost told him—ha, Rosie, have you gotten this close?—about my... life and _junk_. I think there was sympathy. I... diga-don't know...

Before my thoughts have a chance to go too loopy, the soft but hardened tone that is Vivian slopes up and over and around me. There for me. Yeah, I think she's be a pretty fantastic mom. Okay weird thoughts stop please. "Yes... All in all, ignoring their strange amount of energy, they are nice kids. And they're always together... very close... It only makes sense that... after what happened to him, it'd effect her as well." Cold flesh taps at my face. I think she's trying to pat my head. Oh yeah. I like her a little more each passing moment. "Doug... d'you think I'll... do okay?"

"Hahahaha..." Oh hey, it's his diga-Diggins laugh. I diga-don't think they noticed that I'm kinda awake right now, like this thin veil of sleep coats me but my eyes are open. Metaphorically open. They're still diga-doors. "She's smiling as is. I'm sure you'll do very well! Don't be so hard on yourself, Vivian! Dino and Jkonna have emotional ties to you already, and... alongside me, I'm sure that just makes them a little more thankful. You'll just have to wait and see... For now, I think this girl needs some rest before she puddles into the carpet.

"Where was her room again?"

Oh my gosh.

No matter how much relentless diga-Diggins nagging it took, I think at some point the two of those adorable diga-ditzes end up planting me in warm sheets smelling of stale dirt, like that of fossils: comforting. Weights hit my legs bundled in fleshy heat so it's gotta be my vivosaurs, probably just as tired as me. Except for Foster; he's just plain screwed. Eyes closed, I'm not quite sure where I'm staying, but apparently it's been confirmed somewhere or another that... well, I'm... yeah not saying it. That's just creepy to hear it whirling around in my head.

Time passes at a lull and dreams strew about me, and the same words come round and round. What the heck will diga-Dino think?

...oh yeah. He won't be really... thinking much, I suppose. Heat sears past a tip close to my head, flabby, I think my ear, which Bomba cuddled against and now it's no surprise burning. Shifting, swatting blankets and swaddling them over me, piling up mounds of mountainous pillows on top of my head, I try to snore so no one can force me up. A gruff, male tone observes its fake factor and _I want to kick you Foster._ Stay still. No one will notice. Brown limbs and red hairs alike freeze over around a desert of blankets that shift in slumps and hills. Like a personality. A regular personality. Holes and peaks, flaws and talents, and moods. Pretty natural. Maybe a river here or there cuz we're all a little weird somewhere in our personality blanket.

Only some of them must be blank and hollow: whitewashed. And other might be flipped at in the attempt to still the life inside. And because I really can't stop worrying about him, thoughts storm overhead and what if that's what's going on inside of him right now? What if he's being torn to shreds? I'm supposed to watch over him, even if his own diga-dad enforced this break on me. Confirm the whole adoption thing. Converse with other beings for once in my life. Diga-Diggins had seemed maybe a little worried for me. Crease lines in his whisper. Vivian... well, she was a lake without the ice in the winter. Calm, slightly rippled... maybe concerned about me. I mean, I'm technically her you-know-what now. I try to place the word on my tongue and choke.

"GYAAHK!" Fluff enters my mouth and brown hands follow in the vain attempt to scrub it out. Then I'm not only choking on stuffing. We can't forget my own fingers, can we? Pulsating and pushing, eventually those pop out, and I swallow enough then to satisfy the ticklish sensation within me. Finally, I shrug ignorance off and swerve up through the thick blankets that wrap and try to tie me in place and utterly fail.

Judging by the feeling coating one side of my face, there must be sunlight... I'd say a window, right over there to the one si— _SHHHHHHHhhluMMmmp._

That's what I get for trying to reach at it. Carpet very quickly slams into my butt and I snort because that was sure stupid. Fingers seize and allow me to crawl up and search through the yep window, catching brilliant glares of light deep within my soul, shedding brightness on a situation that was dark until I woke and fell into the hand of the day.

 _I like it when you talk poetic to me._

 _Not talkin' to ya, digadig._ Bliss really likes poetry. Wavering, my eyes bury like chips of lost ice into a sill, engraved by tiny diga-designs of sloping curves. A number of names flood my mouth on who could've made this, and the pangs of aches of pins stabbing me, the ones that diga-detect how much I've been actually ignoring those guys, sinks in. Burns itch over skin that soon diga-doesn't feel like my own, stamping memories I shouldn't be so forceful over only to stuff them in the closet of I-can't-think-about-it-now.

Maybe I simply... miss... _this._ Maybe it will diga-do me good to run outside a little.

Hovering, I gently tap the pads of one hand onto the cool sheet of glance; and if I glance hard enough, the very edges of a face peer back at me. The set jaw, round cheeks, streaks of hair that set an end at my little chin, the others that either cut off as bangs or spring down like a flaming waterfall to my toes and below that, too. My eyes narrow and focus and narrow and their icy cores seem to shift with each function.

"Hi..?" I ask my reflection. Watch my jaw stretch uncertainly. A crease over my pointy little nose. I stick out my tongue: a flash of fleshy pink over my dark features. And it goes back in. I stare at myself for a moment, then, just me and the girl in front of me who's also me. The back diga-door of yesterday stuffs in random thoughts about what happened then. I pulse my arms high above my head and clap them together a few times, twirl around on my toes, and promptly trip over my hair.

Bomba warily asks where the heck I went. After a moment, I raise again to fight gravity and collect my little vivosaurs, all of them spilling into medals, red, brown, blue, green, and hide them away to stumble upon later as the voices in my head diga-decide to hate morning. I trudge over grape carpeting and amble past the bed, sticking a finger and curling it over the wooden texture that's anything but what that crazy starship has, and, diga-ducking out the entrance, twirl diga-down a few stairs, because the Fossil Center diga-does have a second floor which I used to sneak into to steal that big red Tramp when I needed him because flying, because when I first met him, and then I pull myself out the diga-door.

Diga-dirt and pebbles alike file into my feet to knock a piece or two out of it. For now, though, I'm just happy to be filled by the sunshine, to stretch out my arms and collect it on my skin because oh my gosh it's been awhile. Sure, I... go out sometimes. Not always. I worry for him way too much to be healthy and here's yet another example of just that. Morie and Bomba titter about healing rays while Foster complains that he's gonna get his fins tanned again. Bliss says nothing; I say nothing. She's... in a way, a lot like the diga-Droplet to my diga-Dino. Only she's... weirder than her. Sometimes. She hasn't tried out hugging. As well, I diga-do have Bomba and Morie, all the same.

Standing here was bound to attract some attention toward me. A hesitant girl, her head swallowed up by a red cap, steps up to me kinda shyly, and I can tell she diga-doesn't know what to say when her matching boots nearly trip over the baby rocks below. Tugging at a fold or two, studded by some warm color or another, leafy eyes trail up to me. Her light, milky skin radiates like mine probably diga-does, only without the yellow warmth: just glowing lights.

She runs a lot. What was her name? Peggy. Oh yeah. Peggy. I think she liked Pippy because he's a titanic vivosaur and she likes titanic vivosaurs. I remember bragging about the three brains of Guhnash diga-Dino had to fight and how _they're_ titanic vivosaurs _too,_ just like Thomas and Iggy, igno and frigi, same diga-difference. In a low, trying-to-hide-it anxious, pressed tone, she mutters through her lips, "Is it real hard?"

"Hrrrrr?" Try to soften it or tell her just how much I've suffered? Okay yeah no I'm not gonna be so rude. Rudeness really isn't a way to treat people. She's just innocent jogger lady Peggy who tries to run fast but really can't. "It's goin' okay, I think. He's gonna get better. Not on my watch will he get bad, digadig." I poke a hand at my heart just to prove it, and my tunic shifts somewhere; the spot I patted feels warmer, now. The words I used diga-didn't lie.

Some things diga-do... get, well, bad. There was this one guy, name's Bartholomew Bullwort, what a long one, apparently he... well, he liked to annoy kids and beat up a lot of stuff and tried to freeze the island, but... well, he got kinda messed up to begin with. Vivian, she has some real close buddies, Snivels and Rex, and they all kinda pitied him or something and tried to help him? Diga-dunno. Things happened. That Bullwort diga-dude, though... Worry, man, worry.

"He's gotta be real real lucky to get a buddy like you on his side, yeah?" Soft and light orbs direct back to her leaves of eyes, calming for the runner she is. Lots of energy and experience pent up in her, even if she never gets any better. "It's funny... Since the world isn't so huge, it's easy to sidle up into roles with everyone, get to know everyone, until you know all the names and you're comfortable around all the peeps. And so even though, say, I'm not like you or anything to him, Jkonna, but... I still feel comfortable here. It's weird."

"Yeaah..." It is kinda funny. We're all just special folks, ain't we. We all know the feeling of some things, because they happened to our island, and this is our home. Maybe she knows some guys better than I diga-do, and same with me, but... it's just funny how it all fits in together. "Diga-dang. We are one big happy puzzle. One of the... y'know, diga, the ones that has all the pieces and everything."

Leafy eyes roll. I pretend to hear them crunch just as if I'd jumped into a big heaping pile of them. "Ha. I'd like to see a puzzle that full." She pauses. Fiddles backwards. The faint tone of impatience creeps in via the rough voice of some sauropod or another. Judging by the icy, mountain-like body I'd guess it an argento—because seriously they have crystal-like mountains jutting on them. Embarrassed and pointing at some trail or another, Peggy staggers back and I smirk and nod and she's off and...

And that... that felt good. _Good._ To speak with someone I literally know. Like, I guess I get the diga-dinaurians and all that, but also, I'm not connected to them like I am to this place, like I am to all these places, and things. But maybe I will be, if I hang around there. It all started with diga-Duna before she had to go and diga-die and then Raptin too, stupid Raptin, he's annoying, but, well... the feeling of knowing others...

What is this strange feeling? I sneak for a peek at a blurred sky, as if it'll summon the answers for me. And it diga-doesn't, but the sight of the world at lone at large catches up somewhere in me, and I can't diga-do much other than look at it all.

Look at it all...

And then it reminds me just how little he sees of this place. He claims to hate the sun but he needs the warmth in his sunkissed body, diga-doesn't he? He's had it this way since he first stayed here. Of course he needs the sun in his life. I should diga-drag him over here an—

No. Not diga-drag him. None of that. N-not again... that was... that was _bad,_ I get now. I should... I should take his hands, take his hands gently and lead him through a world that is ours, that lives and breathes with us weirdos living just as it diga-does only on top of it and much much tinier. He's seen this all the time and now he diga-doesn't and well... maybe that's another thing. Diga-Duna. His family—the missing sister possessed by an ancient. Look at it all...

 _Hey, Bliss?_

 _Waaaaaaaaaaahhaaaaaat._

 _Diga-did any of that make sense at all?_

She helpfully blinks. _Uhhh. Yeah. I think so. Wasn't really paying attention, the sun was caught in my gaze and I wanted to tell Foster to see if he'd shut up. He didn't._

 _Yeah, course not. But that's okay, digadig. Diga-d'you think there's guys out there who want to see him again? Maybe diga-Dino needs to run around some._

 _Haaa. Yeah maybe._

Still... there's something about this place... Maybe if I pester him enough, convince him to visit at the least diga-Diggins and Vivian, if we start with actually explaining to the guy that the two of them really diga-did get together, maybe... maybe I'll figure out what I'm trying to say.

And maybe when the words come to me, he'll heal.

If not, well, it's not like I can ever leave him. I'll always be there. And whether he realizes it or not, he will be, too.

 **Yay for sunshiny chapters and Jkonna not being a bum to everyone in sight!**

 **Jkonna: BUT ROSIE. BUT NO.**

 **Me: TIS A MIRACLE. SHE'S BEING MOSTLY CALM.**

 **Jkonna: OH SHUT UP, DIGADIG.**


	8. Da: Exploring my own Outdoors

**Random video game update for all interested in my life: So, I got this game for my birthday a month ago called Devil Survivor 2: Record Breaker. There's also plain old Devil Survivor 2 but it doesn't come with a soundtrack and stickers and voice actors and I mean voice actors. So, the game... oh my gosh. It just so happens to remind me a lot of Fossil Fighters, only a smidge dark-ish? Like... characters can die if you're stupid. I made a whole new file because I accidentally killed a character because I'm like that. But... I dunno. I needed to mention that.**

 **Torn: -You fucking did not.-**

 **Me: My heart needed to speak.**

 **Torn: -THEN MAKE IT DEAF.-**

 **Me: It's not deaf though that's reyna's job**

 **Reyna: -YOU WANNA GO?-**

 **Aladee: -BE NIIIIICE!-**

 **Trikko: -This is getting good.-**

 **Nyra: -S-STOP! T-TRIKKO SHUT UP.- pushes him back and tries to call order and fails**

 **Torn: pwp -nyraaaah-  
silent screaming**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 8: Exploring my own Outdoors

 _Dina_

One small breath to the other steadily clasps and links my chains of gasps, which I try to pulse only quietly, in the case I run into someone so they do not have to hear me gasp so fearfully. Like I am running away from my own life, so deep and gouged in markings of imperfections, flaws, shame: and although it is so easily washed out of my soul by the touch of the ones I hold dear to me, visible slashes cannot go away when the largest of them all shadows just above me, close enough that the talon-slice of my own darkness falls upon me, engulfs me, but spaced evenly back enough that I cannot reach it, let alone catch a glimpse of this feeling. My inability to move so swiftly or under the wing of stamina forks protrusions of halts: I crawl more than sprint. Much more of a dwindling step. The shadows tracing me, cradling me, on each side, shrink as with the feelings inside of me.

Only the single part that I cannot swallow remains: a bite of rock, it pinches my throat and ceases to move after my first fateful taking of this insight, this hidden realization that has been living inside of me for such a time I cannot imagine. It is put to bed where my memories cease, and all that remains are the calm, forever strokes of black painting upon my past: stained ribbon tying an empty box in place. Nothing remains, but this... this has been with me ever up to that starting point, the one that has been cropped until I cannot see what lies prior.

Did I have... family, ever? D-did they ever know a... a monster has taken refuge inside of me? D-did they see it happen? Were they there when I lost a piece of myself?

Or were they as the likes of the father of Rupert—did they never care for me? Did I have a sibling or so, or am I alone as he is? D-did I have caring parents whose lifelines have tangled beneath the fates of l-life and death a-and have left me, as his mother has? Why am I alive today; why do I exist? I-is there any reason? Would that not be strange: what if I never had parents and I am alive for... other reasons? No, no, that thought is too mangled and... s-strange. I do not like it.

Shaking, I squeak to myself and myself alone as white toes skid over crumbled and sharp stones, scattering my body until a stray hand rushes and scrapes over solid bark. I manage to latch upon the thin tree, allowing the wood and the leaves to uphold my unstable boat sifting over the lashing waters of this life that threaten to glue me apart and scatter my torn pieces, scatter them like the vivosaurs I love and cherish of whom I have run from. Not far; not forever: we will all return again, but they are not here now. And neither am I.

Amethyst orbs shyly peer through holes punctured within the leaves of vast woodland, swaddled in blankets of miniature holes and hills formed by tiny humps in the soil where spots miss or fill, patches of warm, ticklish grass painting the majority of the earthy hue in a wash of nature, a sloping sort of green. Lines missing, seemingly punched out by nature herself in this cast-off island just off one of the main Caliosteo levels, this one belonging to the lush vegetation of Ribular, a small memory, one I now can pocket and cherish and have created on my own of Todd, as he once lived here with Pauleen prior to his accident, blooms like the seedlings swooning all in circles around me. I like standing and moving slowly, at my unremarkable pockmarked pace, in waves of greenery.

It helps when the breath does not come, and the thoughts pour all around until it is as if they plan to drown not only me but all that surrounds me: in the least, burrowed within the heart of healthy life, I would not harm a fellow entity right here. No one. No one has come by my side, because I could not stand by the thought of staking a soul down by me so I cast off upon my own accord. Although, here, the chance of twining fates via vivosaur has aptly grown. If Torn represented apples, and Trikko represented blueberries, Nyra to be pears, Aladee perhaps potatoes, and Reyna... I-I do not know, perhaps the shadows cloaking every last bit of the nexus, soaking up in these corridors of nature, well, the nature would bear these fruits, potatoes, and shadows handsomely and these would reveal how easily I may trample upon the way of one of my dear fellows.

While the blood is in them, how quickly they may revert to their methods of battle, their enjoyment to pick each other about and the sane knowledge not a soul will be harmed in the end, I believe they are more than simple gladiators: Torn... such a small, fiery spirit festooned to me like a parasite, an enjoyable one I have grown to love, his although brash and cumbersome words have managed to collect my undone pieces and attempt to knot them in place again, when right turned to wrong and the blood in me to rust.

Would they understand? Hearts pure, studded in scales, they may not be as different from the likes of the creature that l-lives inside of me as it appears to be: her name... wh-while she spoke of me her name and returned invisible and silent after, I did hear this piece of her life from her, which she has given to me after all she has gone through, d-deep in my... soul. While perhaps it could seem... painful, th-that I must be the one to have found such a spirit residing within me, I-I never exactly feel her, and sh-she does not exactly hurt me, and... this means no one else lives under the influence of such a... an... ancient. Ancient: those that came before the time of the sailed, fanned, reptilian dimetros such as Torn himself and all other vivosaurs, the whole beginning of their existence. And now one... is inside of me...

H-how am I sup-supposed to take this..?

Fangs of thoughts bloom inside of me, pricking sides and splitting and even though these occurrences suggest petals poking outward from the cuts, some flowers are dangerous. My free hand shakily lifts, skidding snowy scales over bangs that fan upon my forehead in the hopes and attempts to gently suggest neater spaces and softer touches. I-if... he was here, perhaps I would ask him; b-but if I wished for his presence I would ask for him and I would return an-and the longer I stray the longer I have to try and...

H-how do I help him..? The news painted his eyes in a bathing of shadow, a cast of concern, the light I pressed to kindle into him dispersed from his sight, any suggestion ever imprinted on his skin of a smile at hand sunken and smoothed out, the epitome of perfect listlessness, a life losing such will to the first purpose. How can... such small words fester such wounds? Silent wounds like so, that wrap around and squeeze the hope out of the inside of a soul without laying a finger upon them? Worry, like a balloon, swoons from within, bubbling and threatening to pop so that I will snap and fall to my knees and cry beneath a wave of oncoming moonlight that will cup my presence and sculpt my vulnerable self into the shorelines just edging off the forest.

Confusion crumples a mold I never could attempt to wear. A mold that may have covered my face, or my heart, or my true intentions or feelings: the purpose it has been constructed for destructed it without prior notice. I cannot cover up how I feel: this mess of river and lake wadded up in me, holes where tears could not slip away and instead burrowed within one another messily until the knots splatter and all left relates to bridges that connect to other feeling of confusion, and worry, and distrust and despair, and it is hard to keep up with myself. I wish the revelation of the... thing in me did not hurt him so much. Real feelings bubble to the surface and singe me, bite at me, demand for attention that scatters precariously over layers of this confusion, until I am too thin and I collapse upon the tree, silvery forehead butting into crusty wood until my entire figure folds in on the nothing that has supported it.

Rupert has... n-never ceased to watch over me...

 _And Rupert had joined me on my way up here_

 _The fleck of a flashback lightly pokes me, the Dina, you are practically frozen solid! and the We need to do something about this... as he reached out and enveloped me in that h-hug_

 _Unfortunately, my feet pull away from me. Fortunately, I do not fall...A knot I did not notice in my heart unties when Rupert suddenly grips me harder, letting me know that I am not the one and only person that could fall on the permafrost_

 _I merely continue to hold my eyes closed, nuzzled against Rupert, this blanket of tenderness not unlike the coat wrapped around me, and him, to a level, that holds us... together. Oh, how nice it feels to use that word... to be together... to have a real relation with someone... To feel as if I truly can belong to someone...  
It is such... such an everlasting... such a wonderful emotion... that clouds up my thoughts... and is simply... it is simple... so...  
Nice... _

Why, oh, why, would you ever decide to lay your fingerprints and allow them to collect, collect, and collect all over my life like this? The glass that frames me is addled and covered by your touch, so covered that the pains and the fears of the first and long, trailing block of the start of all life I do recall, the pains of yesterday, have all been taken care of by the snowflakes of your touch that cover me and mark me with your gentleness, and your kindness, and your presence.

By your command I have watched as you buttoned your own coat over my sad, shivery self, I have been hugged by you when I nearly froze, I have been comforted by you ever since the beginning when you woke me from my tangents of relentless nightmares that will never forget me and have held onto me as endlessly as you have, only you have overpowered them in my mind, and my thoughts linger of you, and I do not understand how the pains that sever me: why must they sever you, too? I-I want to feel your pain and be there by your side when you take those first soundless steps into your old and empty home again, your hollow home of a mansion, and I wish to feel your unidentified cuts as my own and I want to hold your hands and hide the marks under my own touch: b-but why do you have to be so hurt by the actions that have been done against me?

The light in your eyes threatened to warble off and downright leave you as the motion of what your grandfather and cousin have traversed and found the solution of: such solution in me. D-do not be hurt... D-do not... be hurt...

All of these sensations and fears occurring just prior to the scheduled leave for the tournament Todd had mentioned, so that we may see him again, oh, gracious finality of the moment, and here I am... H-here I... am...

D-do I miss him? N-no, not my foster brother, I dearly love him a-as how I love T-Torn but I...

Rupert... d-do I miss him... now?

 _I've never seen someone hug a tree so... gracefully? Ferociously? Oh, oh, nar, ain't that... it's... it's... er... desperately, if I do say so meself._ A-ah, what a tone: sandy and fierce like the wind chopping through him, only the sand is not granulated yellow it is powdery, soft, white... sugar. H-heh... Very... sweet and yet boisterous... similar to the speech of Joe in the accent all the same. _Ain't never seen them 'motions roiling about in yer soul. Geeee-yew, yer a sugary, salty, blackened mess! Who tried to cook you, tots?_

 _Wh-wh-what?_ Is she... am I... aaah... the thoughts and the words form on my tongue but I am too shy and afraid to cry out aloud for them; besides, he would not hear me asking for him.

Pausing, the tramp of footsteps becomes all the more obvious, only as the vivosaur loosens up her step. I do not quite glance for her, facing to the waters rippling just after the my-foot-length-wide strip of sugary sands, the almost-not-there beach that is. Her reflection peers over waves, and I catch sight of a helmet-like head, an egg dressed in battle armor, her rough and dark, mud-like skin calloused over up to the tan top. A stubby little arm waves aimlessly but does not stir any waves.

Her rasp springs into action once more with, _Ya look durned cooked! Why so glum, girlie?_ Wh-why..? Um... w-well... I am a-apparently p-po-poss-possessed b-by a... a...

 _I-it is a... long story..._

 _Whaaaai, long stories, y'say? Long stories? Ain't they the best, though?_

 _Th-they can be, I-I suppose... but..._

 _Ya lookin' for someone, girl? Ya just... yer eyes... they're seekin' and they're dull. Purdy dull. Don't let them get lost 'n the gatherin' darkness, y'hear?_

I squeak, pull back from the tree I have lodged into, scrabbling toward the cuts the bark has etched upon me rather awkwardly. Dots of red have yet to form over split scales; I await for when they do and try to pinch at my skin, like it will ebb the flow when I only further cover my fingers in a paint I wish their white tips did not dip into. Glancing back, this creature who has addressed me sticks out from the slicked darkness tugging for her edges, as it must to mine. Rusty yellow, nigh turned-gold scales shift beneath their upper coat of rock like coloring and scales that pattern, pattern up over and about her body, thin at the front, wide and supportive toward the back. A beak-like maw scribbles in a line of hidden feelings as she eyes me. _Wh-who are you?_ It is now that I recognize just how much I do not.

This blurry form of a pachy twists her little, corded neck and peers her crusted eyes of seaweed. _Har! Well, what c'n I 'xpect from you? Don' know me, do ya?_ Um... that is what I just— _Nar, ya don' know me. Well, ya best be gettin' to now. M'names Tessa, now don' forget it, please. Rupert had lotsa thoughts for a name, like, oh, I durno, uh... Hessiette, Nix... Well, he had idears, but I already had a name. And a story._

 _A story?_ I squeak... again... and try to peer at her. My orbs feel foggy, unseeing, unremarkable: she stands before me now pressing her thin mouth line into a smug look that prods at me. _Why do you have a story..? O-or should I not ask..._

 _Shut up. I'm tellin' ya anyways._ Her entire body folds upward in the jolted expression of excitement. It dawns on me and tiny fingers press up into the sickening black all around me. Dull, useless, of course not a soul but the pachy casually _schhlump_ ing her body into soil can sight them, if she even cares so much. But if... this Tessa.. is out here... and she is a vivosaur that Rupert is acquainted to... um... Does that mean Torn is out here as well? Or Trikko or—any of them? Eyes frantically dig into a fabric of an outdoors that show anything but missing blobs breathing life of blue and red: only switched now, for Torn is the blue one as Trikko has come to terms by red, as well as his odd cyan addition. Nothing. Nothing. I expected nothing: still nothing. No one. Not a soul stirs.

 _Can I start m'story now?_

 _I-I gu-guess so... Um..._

 _Whurh?_

 _A-are my... vi-vivosau—_

 _Geeeeez, spit it out already! No, they ain't right here, can't you see? Don' tell me yer blind like that shadow-lookin' pest?_ Reyna. She... is Reyna here, th-then? _They prolly ar'round 'ere somewhere. Searchin' for you._ Oh dear... _Well, who cares bout all that righ' now? I wanna tell my story. Stories're greah'._

It seems I have no choice. Plainly picking toward the earth, toeing soft bits of it, I find this particular spot to be fine enough and scrabble back the bits of harder pebbles to make room as I lower to the ground. Oh. Cold earth. I shake my head slightly, and orange flecks reveal my evermore brightened outlook. Brightened enough for Tessa to see, even if my own dear ones do not. I-I trust Rupert is okay—bu-but Tessa told me to sit... _Okay can it this is my time._ Her sugary, sunny tone beckons me, so hot and bright I deliberate the consequences of not listening, as what she told me to do.

 _So... twas millions've years ago. That's when I's first created, yeh? Alongside all's them other vivosaurs that the ancients made up, fore we all were fossilized tha' firs' time. M'name was still Tessa, as'y can see. An'... well, twasn't much've a life to look out fer, ey? Just... the firs' time I ever existed. Well, 'sides the fact that... see... there was this boy..._

Wh-why do most stories have to do with such a b-boy?

 _He had this accent... kinda remin's me of Rupert's accent, tho'. But twas... much, much waaaay stronger. He was huge 'n real real huge, like hundreds of huge to erry'one else. An' well I knew he was amazing. H's name's... uh... back then it was... Poppy, righ', 'n I knew he was m'fave. Onny... he had this stubb'rn krona buddy who'd show up outta nowhere al'la time... she's Droplet, back then, n' she was a pest. I wanted him but she was like nope erry time, that annoyin' pest. Poppy... man, he was the best..._

 _I... u-um..._ How do I... c-con...gratulate her..? _Th-that is grea—_

 _Nar! Y'don' und'stand!_

 _O-oh... sorry..._ Under my soft tone, I attempt to speak up and mean my words, show her that I feel bad... m-maybe then she will not shout again and bare her just-about-fanged teeth... I wonder, then, where the appeal in this peppery vivosaur may lie, and why a soul such as Rupert would wish to indulge in her affairs. Some personalities... simply do not bode all the well... a-and I am not sure how much he would enjoy this one... Sugary, peppy, motherly; and yet gruff and on belay to dish out any discipline.

Although perhaps he wondered the same upon Reyna. Such tone he signified in use as he plucked up the white-rimmed medal of the blind and deaf krypto, such voice he displayed upon narrowing his eyes and sizing up the shadowy body of monstrous demands, such way he turned to tacitly place the cooling disc in my pale fingers and to ask why. I still am not sure myself why such krypto became so embedded to my side, my vivosaurs the buttons of a well-worn jacket, she herself included. I suppose I simply found there had to be more to a disabled vivosaur who still found purpose enough to edge her lyrical sword into the emotions of others. To dislike being kind some days and allowing little Aladee to dissuade her others. Blood-red and sightless orbs that would pierce me without the acknowledgment... While none of these qualities quite suit Tessa, there may be an understood bridge they each cross.

 _I keep hearing my name and it's driving me insane._ Dark, almost murderous, a tiny body of sheathed, shadowy claws punctures to my side. _I... well... I don't hear it... I... 'hear' it from my oh-so-wonderful telepathic_ bond _crap. Yes. That._

 _Reyna!_ I scoop up the tiny, scaled body in my arms as she evokes gagging sounds to suggest uncomfortable hatred. Her deep ruby orbs peer up to me; her snout shudders in tepid breaths that warm my cold and confused self, alighting upon it the touch I did not realize I missed.

 _Hey, I wasn't done with m'story!_

A snort from the shrunken krypto. _You're forcing the pushover to listen to you. How pathetic._

 _Rude've ya to interrupt, now git outta the way an' let me finish!_ Reyna mutters other petty comments that reach no ear but mine, to which her provocative tone suggests she is already annoyed by the similar creature in personality. I suppose it was too much to wish for her to make a new playmate. Finally my little sardonic dear utters her last comment, and as if she feels the cynical cloud lift, a pachy head, still in her large and most regular size, twitches. _Hurr. Stories're important._ When the sharp, slick catch of liquid spills from my lip, I can tell Reyna is forcing herself not to intervene again. _Where was I... Aaahaah._

 _Dina don't und'stand the feels. She needs 'elp there._

She cannot help it. I know she cannot help it, for the feelings of how many times she tried to help it are engraved upon the squishy, vulnerable skin dressed around my mouth. All that Reyna does unto herself is felt by me. _Of couuuurse not._ Another hot-breathed bellow of a snort.

 _Um... Reyna... a-are the others arou—_

 _Oh yes they are._

Tessa stings her tone through us and I shift in place to immediate focus. The lump coal of warmth on my legs casually harrumphs at me. _Cermon! Lemme finish up! Tis almost done, ya rude bumble'a creature! I jus' want'd to say that I betcha Poppy's ou'there righ' now... and I betcha he remembered me._

 _Oh yes of course._

 _R-Reyna..._

 _Cuz I know he's gotta care, too! Stupid stupid Droplet ain't wor'f nothin'. Hah. Okay that's it, storytime o'er. Jus'... if ya ever find a soul tha' means much to'ya... well, see! She don' und'stand! She lef' him! Dina, she lef'. If ya fin' someone tha' means so much, ya can' leave 'em 'lone._ I cannot help but silently await the stifling remark my Reyna is sure to come by; only no response draws out from her lips and she does not bite them again, for my own do not bruise in any sort of way. Instead, a thicker lump lands in my heart; a small wave of sadness cascades upon me, and as I touch the krypto, just to be sure she is not weak or unconscious, her scaled body sticks like moisture, cool to the touch. I lift her gently and peer toward the golden body in front of me.

Just as quickly as the wind of stinginess had come, it peters out now. _Y'know how much that Rupert boy cares about you? I swear, it bashes 'n bashes—ver' ver' brash. Ver' int'restin'. Look out for the boy. Well... I surpose ya can't real' do that righ' about now._

Her words, whatever sort of effect they had on Reyna, have finally chilled me as well. Not only her implication that he is not where I had left him—oh... wh-why did I do that in the first place..? But besides that, now I think... h-he must be... d-did he... oh, dear... Stirring, a molten volcano awakening once more, a belch of coal-like heat erupts from the krypto in my arms, pressing heat into the fingers pressing into her. _Yes. He did go after you. And yes, we all followed him. I win, though, cuz I found you first._

 _Nar, I found her first!_

 _Yeah, but Torn doesn't know that._ To imply that she would much prefer if the story was told her way, Reyna nuzzles her snout into a finger and gingerly nips at it; she would much prefer if we found the dimetro himself first as well. Broiling blue thoughts of fire in my head, I gently lead the tiny krypto as I hold her close to my heart, the patterned steps of a rather large pachy bearing down our path behind. And yes, Reyna would much prefer this.

In a pause through the drumming of feet on cracks and creaks of nature, I ask her softly, _Why are you this small in the first place?_

Then she is silent as well. The Reyna I once knew would be quick to her feet to shoot out a bleating, possibly grating response that would or would not harm me I am not sure. Quieter than I, quite the first, she murmurs, _It was unfair... Nyra pointed it out too, before we started. It would be unfair if we played such a game and Aladee was the only small one._ The Reyna I have begun to see to bud has started caring about the world around her, maybe a little more, and she seems quite attached to him now, to the little brown one who tosses happy phrases her shadowy way, no matter what the response she lobs back is, and he always will do so, always. Maybe it means more to her than I had originally presumed. The little germinal seed she was back then has grown.

She gruffly tacks on, _Shut up,_ and all is silent again, save the touches of my clumsy feet on the earth.

It soon becomes apparent how little any of us understands the makeup of the tiny forestry island. Small as it is, I have certainly traversed smaller islands, and even then the possibility of my losing my position was high: it seems to always be. I recall where I had been, leaning upon the altar of a tree which held me up and took me into petrified arms as my palpably lost state took a new view. Had our troop stayed to the cusp of coast and sea, we could wander the ring of the campus and easily figure the way to land again: unfortunately I did not think such things through, and Tessa silently followed me, and now I know ever the less where I am going.

As we haplessly wander, I have no better things to do than speak quietly with my krypto. _I would presume not all of you chose this little island to search?_ If so, the tramp of prints upon and upon tiny forest ground would have been easier to find and therefore faster and more efficient for me to hear even small prints of a fiery dimetro whose temper is even shorter in the undergrowth.

 _Obvious. You would've heard everyone else if that happened, especially Torn. Torn would see trees. Torn would want to 'fucking kill them all' which isn't exactly possible, plausible, or remotely kind of him. I took this path because it seemed like something you'd do. Get lost on an exceptionally small island. One shadowy and full of trees and... well... all the options could've held you, but I felt sure you would be here._

Not sure how to respond, I mumble, _O-of course._

 _Be thankful I didn't go with Aladee. He thought you'd have a better time crying or whatever in Todd's old room with Pauleen. I didn't think you'd want to cry in front of someone. Someone loud like her would freak you out, too._ A pause. She grimly smirks, the shape of face pulling at her maw untidily. _We all felt pretty sure you'd be crying about one thing or another. Todd, maybe, since he's so far away, though you do have us and I mean freaking Rupert. Or maybe you'd be crying about the fact that Luk exists. I don't know. Didn't seem like you but Torn felt pretty sure about that one. Idiocy._

Like it is hard to admit to the final one, she takes a breath. _There is also... the fact that we all now know what happened to you and why you're so messed up. If we never knew..._ Miniature claws dig into my scales. My orbs magnify upon the sight of beady red droplets, not only appearing on me but her body as well. We match. We always match. _If they never told you maybe you wouldn't have gotten so nervous in the first place. They shouldn't have just said that. Now you're all freaked out and upset and you even thought it'd be a good idea to go get lost on your ow—do you freaking know how worried you make the poor boy that just had to like you this much? Gah. You kill me._

 _I-I... um..._ How do I... um... _I-I am sorry, Reyna..._

 _Yeah, you'd better be._ Silence again.

 _It's hard for him too. Though I'm sure you know that. Probably part of the reason you dispersed like you did._ It unnerves me how easily she picks up on these things. _Still... he worries about you way more than he should be allowed to. It hurts him when you're hurt... which really sucks for him, because you get hurt a lot. Why does he insist if you always get hurt?_

Even when no words form in my mind, for what am I supposed to tell her, she answers her own question. _Because you care about him too. Riiight. Even back from the beginning... when you both were a lot more messed up than you are now. You're still less messed up; we just have a name for what kind of messed up you were in the first place._

 _R-right..._ I mumble in response. To which she nods slowly, dutifully. Tessa stays silent behind us, although her trot never ceases so then she must be tuned in towards our converation. How should I... feel about that? Perhaps I should continue to allow this to go on. Y...yes, that sounds about right. Reyna contemptuously snorts a word or so, but like snowflakes, I do not quite catch them, and they melt before their feelings can be revealed.

Gently, the creature in my arms rocks herself, so that, by drawing my own attention she is able to reveal how close we have come to sea. Her amplified sense of smell does her good with sea salts. Crunches of sand pillowing into my feet awaken to my deaf ears, and the sounds I had unconsciously blocked out begin to hum again. Upon finding our ring, although outwards we face the waters and not quite land, to continue on the throng of such trail will allow us to find where I had come from, and where everyone else must have come from in order to meet up with me. I work my way around the campus, moving faster than I had prior in a feeble attempt to pick up after my clumsy pace.

Nobody else voices an opinion as I move, although the creature from behind in shameless full size has released a whirlwind of a sigh once or twice. She is ready to go home... if she considers it a home. I wonder who this Poppy fellow she continues to bleat for may be. Huge, she described him, coated by the slightest of a... northern accent, would it be? One... Rupert would recognize? The thought of my own orbs meeting those golden... oh... I trust he himself feels... b-better, now... The news may not be as recent as it had been on that day, but it continues to thrive, to exist, to coexist within our lives.

In multiple ways does Reyna prove how right her words are: h-how much... Rupert does not deserve to be with a soul as... broken as mine. Wh-why can he not go find someone... else... who is much better than I am, and healed in the ways I am not? But I do not know... and he would leave if he wanted to, r-right?

 _Dina. Oh my gosh. Stop stamping so hard on the sand it's creepy._

 _S-sorry..._

He does... w-worry a lot a-about me, Reyna; he does not deserve this, Reyna; a gentle soul surrounded by a crippling darkness that once nearly claimed him does not deserve to be with me... he deserves, now that he has f-finally been healing, to not be around such a... problem. And yet I... and yet I—focus, focus on not stomping so deeply into the sand. Nothing changes, no matter how hard the flat slaps and sinks into soil, nothing changes. Deep breaths. I begin to move again, a little faster, a little stronger, before nearly tripping and Reyna must correct me on my stepping again, but I might be learning a little bit now.

By the time of our fateful return, up the small bridge holding these two islands almost as one, so that I enter the Ribular Town in a rather peaceful and not-sopping manner, other creatures have begun to gather beneath the waning moonlight. I detect multiple small bodies similar to Reyna, if I were to cou—no... my eyes skim over them tiredly and I cannot focus upon the thought of... counting these bodies. Because she is blind without using the eyes of myself or my other vivosaurs, my krypto cannot count either, but I do manage to tiredly plop her to the courtyard ground of gentle soil, and then sink into the earth myself.

Another body butts a pinwheel head to my side. _Hey, Dina. You know that he's going to be looking, still... right? I doubt he'll give up until he finds you or passes out, and I only speak by the facts, so... it would... probably be ill for you to stay here. I was thinking about just making Torn go, but... he'd rather see you, you know. And these are facts. All of them. I don't speak unless I speak facts._

Trikko. Even under my numbed mind I can detect the deep tone coupled by that one word, facts, in a pattern he would never cease to stop. Unless, I am sure, a piece that means something to him reveals to not go by such facts. Then perhaps it would end. I wonder what sort of clause would fit that. Maybe...

 _Dina. Seriously. He's just getting more tired the more you sit here. I mean, you never get enough sleep as it is so you probably need it, but like—_ Head butting against my thigh continues until I raise a hand and attempt to respond. _Yeaaah... just keep your mouth shut and smile when you see him. He'd gone down to Treasure Lake last I saw. He's been seriously searching everywhere and... I don't know._ His trio-horned face flickers left and right: no no no. I nod somewhat and move myself. The earth sinks before me.

 _Know what? Better idea: ride me._ His body expands like a pillow and manages to blanket me before I crumple to the ground again. Shifting his body allows him to pull me into a nice enough position, if I was to presume, until his stout red legs set out for a trail.

Seas of greens and shadows set out in front of me; they all fizzle into one another until I cannot tell what I am looking at in the first place. These blanket me, too, and fill me in a sleepy sense of color. The sound of stout feet on gravel, _thurp thap thurp thap,_ work their way into my mind and I only hear such a sound until the eventual halt comes and, as his body shifts, other sounds open up, if for only moments, the smaller stepping of another creature. My eyes, tired as they are, cannot quite function to see who it is, though I have a fair guess on exactly that.

Warmth cups my cheek and rubs at either scrapes or dirt or leaves or whatever it is I stumbled upon earlier, there is too much that I did for me to tell on my own. A hushed, "Oh, Dina," accompanied by a gentle scrubbing to at the least clean off one layer of the filthiness I feel. The... shame... the guilt... th-the... idiocy...

I-it was a bad idea... I am sorry...

Streams run down my cheeks now: the ones that did not come earlier have found a much better chance. More emotions, foggy, intangible, bubbly feelings that build up inside of me swoon, and I almost cannot quite understand all that it is, this guilt and this fear and worry and pain... this suffering. This suffering I must cause him when I feel it.

It matters not what I felt when he was trapped inside of hard moments; it matters now what he must feel now because of me.

I want him to be happy, n-not to... help me through my own pains... while I understand that he must feel them t-too... So why? Why does he go through this? Why does he choose to go through this?

Even through my tired, drained self I can feel and interpret what it means to have this cloaking warmth fill me, when his arms wrap gently around me and his eyes face and shine in front of me, and I know and recognize his voice better than my own, the soft and careful tone consuming me as he whispers to me, "Please do not be afraid... I am here for you, and I... always will be..."

Somehow in my tiny and childish little emotional voice, I am able to ask him: "Why... Ru...pert..?"

"Because..." An immediate response. His voice in my ear, traveling down through my heart into my soul, always there, and I do not want him to be hurt by me but he w-wants to be here and behind this pain, m-maybe I want him to be here, too... and I am sorry, b-but I do. "Without you, I am not happy, Dina. Whether you are... happy or sad... I want to be with you... or I will be alone... And now I would rather be with you than to be alone. You are kind... and... very emotional... and you try to help others, even when your clumsiness is at hand... and I want to help you with your flaws... as you help me with mine... and I want you to be happy, Dina. I want you to be happy.."

"But... but I want you to be happy..."

"I'm happy... when I am with you..."

I do not know... what to say... so, um... "M-me too..."

And there, sitting atop my prideful tricera, his hands connect behind my back and I feel my head rest on his shoulder, no doubt adorned by his coat of prime and soft red, trimmed of blue, striped, just once, in white, richly made and richly chosen, not by money and the man ruled by it but of love and the family he cares for who cares for him back. And I...I care for him, too...

I-I am here, Rupert... I-I will not r-run away... I promise...

 **Hooray for happy sweet endings when who knows what kind of event will occur from the monster living inside of her  
yay rupert dina yaaaayyy**

 **Jkonna: I ship I ship**

 **[insert disgusted Dino comment that can't happen because he can't be around when his sister is and he's also messed up too I mean Stone Fossil Fighter all of his slumps]**

 **-Oh, and, now that she's had a proper introduction, I'm sure you're all glad to meet Tessa! (ha, she's interesting x3) She's an OC from Shadow Snivy~ Thank yeeee~!**


	9. Ja: Break Bad

**Me: This chapter marks the one to prove Jkonna's dominance, because she and Dina had three chapters but now Jkonna will have four.**

 **Dino: =w= What about me?**

 **Me: You're going nowhere fast.**

 **Dino: aww**

 **Jkonna: FEEL MY RESONATING VICTORY, DIGADIG**

 **Dino: I DON'T WANNA**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 9: Break Bad

 _Jkonna_

 _Thumm... thumm... thumm... thumm..._ Small steps, like I'm balancing my entire life on a tiny little line, and if I mess up it all comes tumbling and that wouldn't be a very good outcome. Brown toes strike tiles of fluffiness that glow erratically but comfortably, for I've gotten way too used to, almost feeling pampered by these wondrous creatures we call diga-dinaurians. My hand swipes up and rubs over the smooth texture of what feels and appears to be stone, although it might not be stone, since this place also has a resource looking like wood that diga-Dino and diga-Dynal and even freaking Raptin assure me it's not. Whatever it may be, it rubs up against me and catches on melted caramel skin, fleshy and pulpy and soft against the hard stone-like feel.

Near the mural I think someone said they kept diga-Duna. Just a random floaty afterthought up in this nexus of brain cells, but hey, who knows, maybe her stony body is around here somewhere. They all say she'll eventually emerge again, but it won't be for like millions of years when we're all diga-dead and diga-descendants rule the world. Stupid diga-descendants I bet, if diga-Dino interbreeds too much.

No, I'm kidding; and anyway, in this state, we won't see much breeding from him at all. Unless Rosie manages to convince him to love he—yeah yeah no over my carcass. She's not allowed. _But but what if she and Dino actually are soul mates?_

 _But but Bomba. Diga-Dino already said, diga, that he diga-doesn't wanna love anyone else now that diga-Duna's gone. It's like if Morie went and diga-died off right when you met someone else you think you might have a chance with._

 _Yeah but I wouldn't love them I love Morie—_

 _G-guys..._ Her flowery tone creaks like trees, like we're all lost in her forest of embarrassment. Morie mutters other words too but none of us really hear them because she's so freaking blushed out now. It's fun to embarrass her, and way too easy to. Before she can try to hide it all behind Bliss or Bliss ranting about all the more polysyndentons, I of course must butt in—

 _Geez, it's adorable but annoying that you're on the verge of diga-denying it. Every time. If you like her, you like her. Okay? Okay, digadig._

The essence of flowery squeak trails over me again, edged by a, _S-sure... that's not really how it works, though... You wouldn't know, since you've never liked a a soul like that your entire life._ I try to diga-deter but she beats me to it. _I know you're going to try to convince me that having a best friend you love so much is practically the same thing, but it's not, okay, it's not. You don't go on dates with Dino._

 _I probably could._

Foster moans out of nowhere. His foghorn of a sigh streams in among us. _Pleaaaaase don't._ He's just freaking helpful like that. Yeah. Helpful _not_. He pipes up again; _Hey, I heard that._ I know you diga-did, and if I cared, you would care more. About, I diga-dunno, life or something.

 _Giving Foster a hard time really doesn't solve much, Jkkie._

 _Well, yeah, diga, I know, Bliss. But it's fun. And he diga-doesn't care like at all._

 _But stiiiiiiilll..._ She moans, too, like a beached futabi, only her moan sounds better than Foster's, and I begin to worry that now she wants a diga-date, too, like how Morie and Bomba, though the first won't admit to it _stupid_. But Bliss probably wouldn't diga-do that to me. Plus, Foster wouldn't care; he cares about literally nothing. I could get away with calling him a heartless pest and he wouldn't care.

Like a grandpa volcano, he struggles to erupt. _Heeeey, that huuurrrtt._ Naught but blackened fumes arise. Poor Foster: even when he diga-does have an opinion, he fails at diga-displaying it simply because he's Foster like that. Is it wrong how funny I find that? It's sad. Yeah. It's all just sad. Futabies with necks so long their heads swivel in the clouds so they can't see what's right in front of them. And his head is always up there, trained on who-knows-what.

 _Jkonna, you're pretty talented at going off topic,_ kindly reprimands the grassy one. _You were worrying and thinking about how to approach this whole plan to Dino, and suddenly we're all focused on just how heartless Foster is. Just sayin', I don't see what the big is: he's not that bad of a dude, y'know._ She probably has a lot of points I should listen to, but I can't help it, it's fun.

Morie plants a little sigh into me. _C'mon. Does Dino or Foster insults mean more to you? Is it really that hard? Can't you focus, now that you have your plan actually started and everything, and you're not yelling at everyone, and you're not ready to tear something to bits and you're actually focused? Let's do something already! Let's save that poor boy!_

Because I can, my for-once-quiet remark, toned diga-down of flames, goes by, _Impatience is something diga-Dynal's trying to convince me to forget. Ey, digadig?_

 _Shut up._ Mango slices of eyes size me up and diga-determine me to still be harmless. _Still. You can't ignore it. I know you're excited, and it's not even that that's stopping you but your fear of failure yet again, to only make him even worse, that's keeping you from action in the first place. But it's right there! Just go up to him and find Raptin and get it going, Jkonna!_ Her light trill screeches back at me at such length that even though we speak through telepathic communication, even though her voice is tiny and childish, I'm blown over. A hand lashes out and would've scratched the mural but I diga-deliberate that whatever the heck that is, it ain't rock. Of course.

And because those eyes only grow more spicy by the moment, and Morie's bill of a lip curls over as she waits, and waits, and waits for me to diga-do something already, now that I actually have even the slightest of ideas, I should move. Even as my heart squeals in my chest and hysterical liquids flow through and ice me, even though I have no idea if Raptin will agree or not in the first place, it's all I have, and maybe if I get moving, like she keeps telling me to, maybe I'll actually get something to happen: something that could help or something I diga-dunno.

I march. I march a lot. Her voice stopped barking but its echo never leaves and I feel like I should march to its terrifying tempo. Morie told me something and when Morie tells you something you want to listen. Same with Bomba, because Bomba never lies and usually what she has to say correlates with the new fire budding nearby. Bliss is... she's Bliss. I never really could trust her, and right now, as she goes crazy with her poetry, it's even less likely to hear words of wisdom from that golden voice box. I've already ruled out Foster, so... well, most of what he has to say involves someone shutting up for his liking of quietness and peace.

But Morie. I listen to Morie.

Diga-down the fuzzy hallway of glowing tiles, white first, then a prism of faint and hectic hues, reds yellows blues making greens oranges purples hiding pinks browns grays and all the colors in between. That little corner hovered in old, rusty yellow, that's Raptin. His soul must be that color. But right now he's eking a couple other interesting textures, after... well, diga-Dino most certainly wasn't the only one hit hard by diga-Duna's stone sleep thingy.

I can hardly believe the guy cared for someone, but that blue-haired boy, beneath his mask of turquoise scales, he did feel something. His olden yellow chest, like armor, protected that heart that inside held diga-Duna diga-dear. Anyone else in there? Maybe. Maybe he hasn't diga-discovered them yet.

Trickling through the corridor, I hardly believe my luck when my head ducks into the purple-shaded entrance of gel and the figure sitting hunched on top of a chair there is the strange one himself that I've been worrying relentlessly back and forth over. Not even because of him being in a bad place or pain happening or something crazy like that: like, just worry. About this one stupid question I have for him. A little farther through his tidy room, I can squeeze my icy eyes and glimpse another diga-doorway, if that's what these things are even called. But past that, I bet that's... that's where she is now.

Wow. They couldn't have gotten it in a better place. Not only will diga-Dino never diga-dream of tramping in here and then seeing diga-Duna and then perhaps imploding even worse, but the brother of the one lost can peer toward the sister and see her, in a way. She probably can't talk or anything where she is, and we'll never be able to bring her back so that anyone literally diga-does see her, but it must be nice for that boy to be able to have that memento and think of the one inside.

So anyways. My head splats through the barrier of gel and I yell, "Hey, Raptin! Diiigaaaaa!" Diga-does he notice? Why yes he diga-does. Sharp attempting although diga-dull and sunny orbs flicker back onto me, widened by a ring of white and then scrunched over in the suggestion of hatred I'm gonna pretend diga-doesn't exist. "Have a minute?" Of course he diga-does. He's just sitting here.

"No, I do not. Can you not tell?" A grim smirk twists over a sea of turquoise. His diga-deep and diga-dark almost stormy blue arms cross one another, the scales on the elbows twinkling in the sheen. Scrunching happens over his forehead too, where spikes of diga-dark blue bangs diga-don't lay. Honestly, I'm not sure if he's lying or not. Nah, he probably just wants to be left alone.

Well too bad. "I need your help, thouuuugh! Pleaaaaaase, digaaa! Pleeaaaaaaaaaase!" For emphasis, clay hands _shhhlick_ through as well, and I reach them out. Most of me outside the purple barrier, I struggle to push all those parts of my body back while holding an elaborate enough position.

Quietly, in his gruff stiffness, he mutters, "Leave me to my own business, Jkonna." It almost makes me want to laugh, how much the way he says my name sounds like the way diga-Dynal says it, the "kuh" almost bypassed and creating a rift of "Jihahnah," so that it's almost silent, almost floating.

But I really need your help. "But I really need your help, digadiiiiiiig!"

"You continue to pester me after I have excused you?"

You bet I diga-do. "Pleaaaaaaaaaaaassseeee!"

"Pathetic."

"Nooo, you're pathetic, cuz you're not listening to meeee! Take that, digadig!"

"You are the one lodged halfway through my doorway." Oh, so they diga-do call it a diga-doorway. Now I know.

 _And knowing is half the battle._

 _Bliss, diga-don't even._

Oh, right, Raptin's still waiting for a response. His golden orbs actually shine back at me, and his grim stare almost diga-doesn't look so... creepy. "C'mon, you know you love us! Diga-Dino and I reaaaally need your love right now, Raptin! Digaaaaaaaaa! And I wouldn't be lodged halfway through your diga-doorway if you'd! let! me! in!" But I'm not lodged halfway it's just my hands and head and a lot of my hair geez Raptin.

"What is this you speak of, for... would it be Dino and yourself?" Turd. He's interested. I'm freaking out.

Come on Jkonna play it cool play it cool. "Well, y'see... y'know how he's been lately... Diga? So, well, Rosie showed up and I got mad and it got me thinking and now I've got ideas. Really, diga, good ideas. And this one involves you helping me out." Only one person could act so sly while their hands, some of their flame hair, and their head stick out of purple gel, and that person is me. Cuz I just diga-did it.

"Oh, dear." A pause. His orbs sink into me. "Does it, now? What must I do in this assertive plan of yours, Jkonna?" I can't get over how he says my name I'm in love with that gruff speech aaaah.

Struggling to overcome this greatness, I shake out a head of stricken, fiery-dyed bangs and peer through their unforgiving slits. "Oh, yes, digadig, you have quite a thing to diga-do!" It's actually not much at all, but it sounds cooler that way. "First off, we gotta find diga-Dino. You gotta come with me, diga, or it won't work. So get up; let's goooooooo! C'mooooon!" I _slurrcch_ out from the gel and crawl backwards like a vivosaur, randomly tripping over bits of my hair and pulling at the sleeves of my toga because suddenly I'm embarrassed and everything feels itchy.

Maybe it's because I hadn't expected the response provided. Yeah, diga-didn't see that coming. It's what I wanted to happen, but, like, he's Raptin. I wonder why he's coming, then... No matter. The gentle printing of his careful traipse on the tiles alerts me and I waken myself to be ready for when he shows. Thankfully, because it's weird like that, like literally everything diga-dinaurian based, they're all just weird like that, and this one, the gel diga-doesn't actually cover us.

Thank gosh. My hair is saved. For now. I really need to comb it sometime; there's tangles freaking everywhere. Diga-Dino likes combing it for some reason. Maybe I'll throw that in somehow.

While I'm trying to think of some other way to sweeten this sorta diga-deal for the diga-darn boy, the great one emerges from his holy light of purple gel. Gently shaking his head and sending his diga-deep and diga-dark blue spines of hair into their immaculate places on his sky forehead, his old gold orbs peep back at me. "Why are you staring so hypnotically?" emits his monotonous glory of a voice.

Okay sorry his appearance was too good I wanted to inflate it. Geez. I almost sound like I like _like_ him or something _eeeewwww._ If I ever even like _like_ someone in the first place I'm sure I'll end up as one of those diga-ditzes who falls in love with a girl who already has a boyfriend. Yeah. Yeah. That— _That._

Plus I diga-don't care that much. I'm happy with my bro diga-Dino... well...when he's happy, too. To keep Raptin from forming his own creepy stare, I push my diga-dark, fleshy face over toward his scaled one and he pulls back. Wow, his chin is long. Never saw that before. "Juuuuuuust scrutinizing." I gleam in his face. "Diga."

"You have no need to scrutinize here," he mutters back. His eyes are too diga-dull to diga-dig into me, which I think the diga-dude knows, I mean he's diga-Duna's older brother who knows how many years he's got on me maybe five I'm gonna go for, maybe four or six, nothing less than four though, nothing less. "I already told you not to scrutinize, girl." In a flash, his studded near-black hand crops up close then clops me fast from cheek to cheek. Quick, simple, reactive.

Man, this guy is hilarious, and I diga-doubt he even realizes it. Because that's probably not the response he's looking for, I choke down air meant to be a laugh and squeak back, "Uuuuh huuuu— _hic!_ "

More with his own "scrutinizing." Freaking Raptin. "What an abomination." Okay, I choked on the laugh I was about to use on you, at least pretend to be grateful, man. Or not. Keep being Raptin. Go ahead; go a-freaking-head. "Let us just go already." As he shoves on past me, angrily yanking for my hand and tugging me along, he mutters something that sounds a lot like a pretty redundant "stupid idiocy." Ha. Funny.

I'm slower and my legs are shorter since the guy, while he diga-doesn't quite reach diga-Dino, is up there, so his tail easily smacks into me a couple times. Studded by his sky of day and night scales, the diga-dark and the lighter blue of his hues, it just whacks into me cuz it's there and—oh, it's wagging. Wiggling back and forth probably from an expulsion of roundabout actual pleasant emotions. So he's enjoying it anyways. Man, Raptin, I diga-don't get you. Are you diga-dragging me so fiercely because you diga-don't want me to see some diga-dumb smile on your face? Diga-do you find me and diga-Dino funny or something?

Just wondering. Because you're just—just slightly hilarious. Just a tiny bit.

Well, whatever, more the merrier. Think that he'll be able to help my best friend. After merrily dragging me diga-down the corridor of the fuzzy hallway and turning a hard left until we reach the other end of the entire starship, Raptin diga-dumps me over to which I pitch and land on my stomach beside him. Before he can move, a chocolatey hand reaches for one of my ropes of flaming hair which I toss over the entrance and then he trips and, when I hear his breath fly out with an _uuumph,_ that tail diga-donks me right on the top of the head.

Faint grumbling. His monotonous yawn. Or a sigh. I can't tell. One of his diga-dark hands fastens over me, fingers spiraling and connecting over my squishy arm, so that he can easily diga-drag me up and over again. Without speaking of his profound hatred like he sometimes diga-does, his now-mess of spikes of hair leads the way, and our bad-hair-day diga-duo files onward until we finally reach that crevice to the side and barge into our room. Diga-Dino's and mine. Not Raptin's. Eugh, I diga-don't wanna sleep within like twenty steps of this guy.

We stumble on into the simple but warming chamber.

He's where I thought he'd be.

Balled up by the blankets, resting with it rounded and rumpled over him, alone. Silent. A hand or two sticking out weakly, the black scales, shinier and more lustrous, fuller than Raptin's, plucked over, hanging around, stuck by itself in the sea of fluffy waves. He breathes loudly when he sleeps, so I know he's at least conscious. But unmoving. Always unmoving. Sight alone, intensified in my bright and light vision, always sucks into the scene, pulsating this emotion through me, this one he feels, the one I feel, too.

It's a little weaker now. As if... I'm wrapped in softness, a gentle tug ensuring me on.

And no, it's not Raptin hugging me. Ew. Never. Never. _Never never never no I diga-don't like that thought._ It's... what's the word... mystifying... helpful.. promising...

Hope. That's it. I feel hopeful now.

Okay great let's try to—hands connect over an old, rusty back and Raptin spirals through the top, fluffy opening of the bed but also above the footboard, falling and flailing like a floppy stuffed animal to surface in the waves crashing diga-down upon the curled up other boy. Diga-dull yellow orbs toss me a look. I offer the biggest smile I can muster. I hope it's big enough.

Before he can adjust, I slam myself up next to him too. Now, okay, diga-deep breaths, maybe I'll diga-do something right. Scooting past the diga-dinaurian that isn't so freaking catatonic, the one with the stone sister who's living through life without unbalancing himself, I gently curve fingers into the covers and slowly, slowly, inching for my life, pull back the colorful waves that encroached him for these hours.

Sometimes it's weeks. I gotta stop that. I gotta stop that at least for a moment.

Eyes, wide open but sightless, seeking hope but hopeless, graying but without definition, eyes focus on not me, not the unexpected guest, but the same little spot on the ground he's keen on staring at. I diga-dunno if he remembers, but it's the same indention that Pippy accidentally made when something freaked him out on the first diga-day here and he began to swoon and he's over a hundred feet long so you know it was bad. That splotch of imperfect fuzz proves that the loving, earthy vivosaur trimmed of violet was there, particularly close to his natural size. One little footprint. And now diga-Dino's staring at it, staring at the footprint of the vivosaur we revived together when we first met. I took the tools, he found the fossil.

Now how diga-do I... start this, exactly..? Uhh... I'd love to shove Raptin at him and tell the guy to diga-do something but he's not very good at impulse reactions. We've learned this through our very short time together after he stole the diga-dolls, back at the beginning. Oh my gosh diga-don't get me started on those diga-dolls. Gently shaking my head, I place a finger on diga-Dino's frigid forehead and mutter, "Hey..."

No movement. I know he heard me, though. Sometimes on better diga-days he'll quote things he heard from me on these sorts of... slouches. This one feels a little diga-deeper, Rosie's bumbles and tumbles just cracking and falling straight on top of him, but... but I actually am trying something now.

Again. "Hey..." How diga-do... Oh. Right. Introductions. "...you have a guest, diga." Softly, gently, I pull at our entwined hands and Raptin stutters forward. This time, his actions spurt no funnies. I'm focused. He needs more gentleness in his life, diga-Dino. He needs more softness.

It takes a few moments. On the outside, the guy sort of staring at me, he probably had no idea why I started as the boy rose, but on the inside, it was just me and him and time diga-didn't matter, and I felt like he wouldn't rouse at it, wouldn't care if Raptin showed up anyways. It's just, like... if he's... he knows who diga-Dynal and I are, sorta. But, well, I suppose he once knew Raptin. Once...

He mutters something soft and childish and gray orbs trickle back toward old yellow. The two boys lock stares and neither of them looks like the kinda guy to break such a look. I snort. Neither blinks. I can't help it and snort again.

While they're diga-doing that, bodies form and swarm up to me, them, unlike diga-Dino, at least slightly warmer. The purple one who spouts and mutters nonsense the warmest, probably because she was running around a lot. Little tiny child-size Pippy raises his long neck and peers toward me, the lilac in his eyes glinting the slightest in his stare. _Dear lassie, is this what I'm thinking it is?_

 _Well, gee, Pippy, I totally know what you're saying before you say it. Digadig, your words aren't even needed._

He squeaks. _I was just getting to that! Dear me, I apologize! I was thinking... are you, like... well, it wasn't his father or you or any of the other ones like a vivosaur you had to choose from, and certainly not... you know..._ her stone... _but instead Raptin. Raptin, of all choices, lassie, dear boy Raptin! And so, if you're choosing him, then... I simply wonder what sort of adventure you'll be pulling him into._ Now-murky eyes glance back and stare toward the staring contest. Or maybe it's not a contest and they just diga-dunno what to diga-do now.

Gently, I shove both boys apart and Raptin tumbles over. _Thrummmmp._ And there he goes. A creaky cry emits, but not from the position of rumpled diga-ditz on the floor, instead resonating up next to my ear. First warbling, falling betwixt levels of sounds, then stronger, until I turn and oh my gosh he's laughing. It's choked, plain diga-depressing, but it's laughter. Raptin mutters something else that's redundant and proceeds to try to get up. _BRONG!_ A collapse.

The laughter steadily grows in volume the more Raptin tries to get up and fails. It gets so loud and Raptin gets so breakable that I start to wonder if he's diga-doing it on purpose; then, oh, of course he is, this guy can be clumsy and slow, but not _that_ clumsy and slow. Diga-Dino, on the other hand, ignoring his great sense of obliviousness which killed me back when he was freaking out because Rosie and diga-Duna kept kissing him, he can realize stuff.

No scratch that he can be pretty stupid. I wonder, then... what his sister might be like... and if I've met her before. Actually... I think I...

A sudden halt in diga-Dino's joy reverts me from the hole I diga-dug into my brain, closing up the trail to the past. Maybe I have, maybe I haven't, but none of it matters until he feels better. And... not just ha-ha-for-the-moment better but oh-man-this-laughter-it's-everywhere-I'm-so-cured better. So it diga-doesn't matter. I diga-drop the thought and focus on the diga-dear boy, only to realize he stopped because he prattled on, head diga-drooping over the edge of our bed, spikes of blackened hair flowing down in fluffy banks, that one orange stripe shining and standing out like... him, in a room full of other people. Because he's my best friend, and he's all I flock to, always.

Tail swishing, his arms diga-dangle and then everything diga-dangles and _thrummmmmmmmp._ They're both on the ground, now; both of them diga-doing who-knows-what on the ground, over to the left side to which I must go check up on because suddenly Raptin isn't very older-guardian-like, even though he's like five years superior me and six to diga-Dino and diga-Duna and probably diga-Dina too, since she's his twin sister, back when they were all together... when they were like two and he was like eight.

Stifled giggles and muted kicks. My bright orbs peer over the edge and yep, they're in a tangle of diga-dinaurian boy and they're acting like idiots. Wrestling. Yeah, they're boys, I get that, they wrestle, but seriously, of all things, they're just childishly poking and tapping with each other. I pull fronds of hair back to make sure they diga-don't yank me in cuz okay maybe I'm not all ladylike but brawls are diga-disgusting, and that's all there is to it.

Diga-Dino, eyes squeezed tightly shut in childish glee, diga-doesn't see the tiny half-moon grin etched on the older boy's lips. Oh my gosh it's a miracle Raptin is _smiling._ Why is he _smiling._ Laughing, but it's a silent chest-heaving sort of laughter that prevents anyone else from hearing it. His gleaming orbs burn through me and that look just tells me he diga-doesn't wanna hear this sorta talk spreading, so I better not, as the single witness of the event, diga-do much.

Fine by me. I'll just brag at diga-Dynal or something. _Euuuuh... doesn't that still sorta count?_ Diga-dumpy brown Pippy by her side, sharp-toothed diga-Droplet peers her similarly icy orbs up towards mine from her tiniest form. She's—why is she sticking up for that pip-pip cheerio of a seismo? She's usually the one to cackle alongside me. Geez. She's acting all close to the guy and it's weird.

I blink toward the... interesting diga-duo. I mean, they've always been kinda close but... I diga-dunno. It's gotten almost weird... like... diga-different, somehow. _Nah. Diga-Dynal diga-doesn't count: diga, he's diga-Dynal! He probably already knows._

 _Yeah, probably._ A saltwater snort. I go to staring at her and she stares at me for a moment, as she slowly raises her pointed snout, before I shake my head and turn back and she giggles a little, similar to the sounds her bond's currently squealing all over.

Holy turd. Raptin's tickling him. My gosh, I had no idea they knew each other this—wait yeah I diga-did. They knew each other as little kids, diga-duh, and Raptin probably remembers him pretty well. We might not know the guy as much as we might another time, but... I can tell he and diga-Dino share a connection. And because I'm his best friend, I guess I'm let into this little circle too, maybe a little. That last phase lasts nary a few seconds, but even as the shorter but older and wiser boy stands, assisting a giggle-seized diga-ditz alongside him, golden-eyed affection looks pretty palpable between them. Watching over the boy, as diga-Dino collapses in towards the bed again, not from his creepy sadness but exhaustion, diga-drained by his sudden and new fits of joy, ones he's supposed to have a lot more, more like all the time.

It's kinda sad, when I think of it that way. Sadder than it already is.

W-well... he was hit by a meteor of hard things and... and now I'm helping him. Geez, calm diga-down, Jkonna. Plus, now it looks like Raptin's going to get further indulged into our lives. I diga-dunno if that's a good thing but, like, he seemed pretty happy for a moment there. Raptin, pretending to carelessly swipe over a hand when really he's trying to intricately straighten up his also-soft spines of blue hair, plops himself on another side of the bed, too, and the two of us already on it jostle. Diga-Dino rams into me or I ram into diga-Dino; one of us goes flying and we both topple and he's giggling again, and it's a nice sound to hear. The voice quickly twists as hair gets tugged and oh turd I think it's choking him so I spring back and pull awkwardly at strands until something comes loose and he's fine again, slate orbs sparkling toward me silently, like he diga-doesn't know what to say.

About what, though? He hasn't really tried speaking much this entire time. Sometimes I stare at this kid who goes mute when the emotions become too much, like an illness that intensifies by following the strings of mood and feeling, that already mottled and messy, until it all balls up and this is what it diga-does to that one boy in the midst of crowds to poke fun at others and laugh a whole lot and he never stops jabbing in words at others. And we're like sidekicks to each other and—

 _Whoa, whoa, slow down now—_

 _It's hard, Foster!_ I'm screeching at the futabi. Never thought it would come to this. _It's hard..._ Even when my volume amplifies in my head, that one-time-useful-finned-pest manages to contain my noise and nobody hears it but the two of us.

Diga-Dino's laughing, I think giggling something toward the older boy sitting in front of him, head turned the slightest. Foster leans in from his tiny orange-and-pale mixture of color and long neck and fins, whispers, _Yeah, no duh it's hard. That's why you've survived so long. Is it almost over or is it too hard?_

Half of me still really wants to slap him. Maybe it's Morie, or Harei or Pippy or someone whose nerves far surpass mine, but in the end futabies diga-don't get slapped and he slumps over, snorting. I just sigh and shake my head a bit. Flustered, I guess. Really flustered.

Sooner rather than later, the blue-scaled visitor, or guest, right, that's what I called him, stands on his own and waves the slightest. His smile's wiped off like it'd been diga-drawn on in shaky, temporary marker; maybe it'll come back later? Maybe. A Jkonna can hope. Because I'm the one that got him to come in the first place, I awkwardly pat at my gray-eyed friend and stand up too as Raptin and I slowly exit. Once we've left the gel behind by a handful of steps, his wizened old orbs of yellow peer diga-down at me, since I'm shorter than him. Since I'm under him.

Quiet for a moment there. "I suppose I should thank you for this lively incursion." Am I just seeing things, or did like a regurgitated half-moon grin show up for like two seconds there before being swallowed back into the monotonous lips? "Thank you for requiring me to stop by and visit our sick friend... who is, yes, a childhood companion of my own. There... had once been other children my age, although I tended to stick by the friends Duna had made at her small age. Our parents preferred it; they happened to be family compadres with... the royal family."

"Oh, so that's why you're so chummy with diga-Dynal."

And the eyes go attempt-at-flint on me again. "You could speak of it in such fashion."

"I suppose I could, diga~"

"You are strange, Jkonna." Aaaah he said "Jihahnah" again aaaah.

Suddenly embarrassed for no reason other than the fact that he both spoke my name and tried to be a little more polite than usual, my eyes wander around on the tiles. These are pretty quality tiles; y'know, I've never seen such fluffy... glowy... things. "Well... I gotta diga-do what I gotta diga-do to help him. Thought it might... y'know... stir something up if I... forced him into something... like this. We'll see. Digadig, we'll see."

"Hmm." He's pretty curt with that word. Some people curl it around the edges, exaggerate the ending, make it feel everlasting: his just starts and finishes. "If..." His face suggests he's just stepped right to the edge of a cliff, maybe hanging ten with his toes. "If I may..." He's inching. "Would it be alright..." He's inching. "To suggest..." _He's inching he's inching he's inching_. "That I could... join you in these incursions..." Now he looks like he just jumped and he's diga-died.

Diga-dude. Chill. "Well, yeah, diga-duh! The more, the merrier: totally! Diga-don't worrryyyy so muuuuuuuuuchh." Diga-Duna's gotten that worried about similar things; they're... similar, in more ways than I thought at first. Heck, when we met in the beginning, the diga-dude haaad taken our diga-dolls, and the two of them sorta looked like polar opposites: diga-Duna thought diga-Dino was _the_ diga-Dino the prince and Raptin was all like no but he was and it's been proven so I guess that whole facade is over.

It takes some reassuring, because I diga-dunno if that guy's ever gotten even a foot in the general direction of the cliff, but eventually he gets the idea I'm not joking and he's not too bad a guy and it's fine it's fine _holy turd Raptin shut up it's fine._ He leaves off on his merry own way just as the weight of the fact that diga-Dino socialized on a bad day today weights diga-down on my shoulders and I collapse on the ground, then and there. Diga-Dynal'll prolly come and check on me at some point because he's "diga-dad" like that, and he'll be curious on how badly I failed _but I diga-didn't fail though I said I would_ and I guess it'll be... nice, for once, to not fail.

It feels weird to not be so... failure material right now.

Tired. Yes. Very tired. I blink past blurry eyelids and smirk at how diga-dumb I must look to any random passerby diga-dinaurians. I wonder, then, what they must've thought when I first came up here and started living like all the rest of them. Who knows. Maybe they find me insane. Well, that's just awesome.

But none of it even matters cuz I actually diga-did something right for once. Yaaaaaaaaaay.

 _But don't go crazy and start yelling again. Or getting too emotional._

 _Too tired, Foster._

 _Yeah, but just lettin' you know, since you always do that._

 _Tired. Shut up._

 _Yeah but you always do that._

 _Tell me when I'm not tired anymore. Diga._

 _But—_

 _Diga-don't make me yell._

 _Uuuuggghhh._ Then all is quiet, and we each smirk in our own direction of peace.

 **I guess this was expected for Jkonna, since, well, she's been failing so much... xD but... it really was time.**

 **Also, I'm happy! I got to add in Raptin characterization! For all who've read (and remember xD) The Lost Fossil Fighter (and for those who would like to know a little more), Raptin and Duna... well, so there were these dolls (that were part of the starship; they started that evil guhnash dude but Dino and Jkonna found them long before all that and were like TOY DOLLS YAY)... so Raptin stole the dolls so that they could restart the world.  
Not summon guhnash. Just kill all the humans and try again. Ha.  
He did not know who Dino was at the time because Dino didn't even know either. He'd... forgotten without realizing.  
But anyways Raptin acted really rude and silent the entire time and it was funny. X3 But also... poor guy, hahaha...**

 **Okay, so that's my Raptin blab! Maybe I should make more of those, if anyone would like me to to help them remember/learn about stuff? :3**


	10. Ja: Break More Bad

**Jkonna: I'm so proud of myself, digadig.**

 **Raptin: Great. =w=**

 **Me: I'm proud of myself too. I made two obvious vivosaur ships last chapter. But yes that's great but not in the sarcastic way Raptin meant it**

 **Jkonna: but but Raptin aren't you pleased for me?**

 **Raptin: I suppose... in a way... perhaps.**

 **Jkonna: :D Really?**

 **Raptin: no.**

 **Jkonna: -looks hurt-**

 **Raptin: … -tries not to show off any of his guilt-**

 **Me: how cute**

 **Raptin: not**

 **Jkonna: I am so diga-done with you**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 10: Break More Bad

 _Jkonna_

 _No, no, seriously. Are you just going to do this every time you're thinking about a new option for helping that boy? Feel guilty, feel like it won't work, rant this much about it?_

 _Foster, you're a meanie._ It's the only way to diga-describe him. He and all of his little sharp nooks stashing mountain peaks of teeth diga-drenched in chilling snow, a cold north wind billowing under each word he spews. Even though he's speaking telepathically like always, since that's his only available form of communication. Well, that and random growling noises. Futabies these diga-days. Futabies and acros that pretend to be them. Narrowing my eyes toward a particular, I mutter just to her, _Diga-don't tell me you diga-didn't see that coming,_ of course in the reach for all my other vivosaurs to hear. Diga-Dino's got five, but he always pretends he has six for some bizarre reason I'd rather not reflect over; these four sit in the power of whatever power I pertain.

Because she never gets it, Bomba raises a slim talon in the air. Her head of long, misty blue feathers recoils as she stretches. _Wait... why is he a meanie and she blind, now? What exactly happened to cause this? Is everything okay? Are we all not okay?_

 _Errr..._ Morie barters with her own talon, this attached to green instead of a sheen of lava. She diga-doesn't look ready to convince Bomba yet again that it's all good. I still can't quite grasp the entire meaning of their well "relationship;" they're keeping it afloat somehow. They both act happy enough, at least. And giddy too. Well then again Bomba's always giddy so it's hard to tell. _We're fine, Bomba, don't worry so much._ Leaves it at that. Smart little sugary tone of hers. Bomba asks no other questions. Yet.

A sharp, rapping cough taps into my skull. Because there's not a soul else who'd freaking diga-do it, I mutter through slits of icicle eyes, _Shut uuuup Fosterrrrrr._

 _Just do the thing already and maybe just maybe I will._

 _Uuughh, you're so annoyyinnng, diiigaaaaaaaaaaa..._ Slouching over, I proceed to crash into the puffy tiles. Not in front of the mural, though I wish, but instead nearby to the entrance of a specific gel-coated chamber. I diga-dunno if diga-Dino'll agree to anything, basically the same terms as last time, only diga-different tidbit including Raptin since he's basically a part of our team now. Basically. I wonder if he'd let me call him my fifth vivosaur.

Yeah no probably not. Those emotionally-diga-dried eyes would crumble over me and he'd smirk like the gloating butt he thinks he is. And with his sister, of all influenced people, sitting in plain stone sight, just behind his mountainous back. Kinda long, like how Foster's neck is long, and also similar to his chin, but not too pulling, not too thick.

Snorting, Morie raises a mango eye and peers toward me. _Dear, it's either that or I'll start yelling again. Please make your decision wisely. You need to quit such worrying already; it's getting more annoying than you think! Calm, Jkonna, calm already!_ I mutter something about how calmness diga-doesn't exist. _With that attitude, it doesn't! Just believe in yourself and get it over with! Think about Foster!_

 _Yeah, duh, think about freaking me._

Oh my gosh ew it's like she's trying to feed my one true weakness to me. But, because Morie is Morie, and of course her opinion expressed can't be wrong, I really should listen and stop trying to use the tramp of tripping Jkonna on puffy tile as an excuse that I'm moving. If I just get it over with, then I won't have to be so nervous and act all sweaty and gross and just, just diga-do it. Bunching up pathetic little Jkonna fists, I hammer my hands into nails and rub at the pinkish joints a little: worry creeps in anyways. Can I really just waltz on in and diga-demand of the diga-dinaurian boy—again? Is he gonna get like mad or something?

Well, I guess it'd just be funnier that way. Come on. Keep thinking like that. How much more hilarious he'll be if I make a fool outta him. Of course, the main goal this time around has nothing to do with marking up the poor guy as a diga-dandy, though I can see him as such, but it might evoke some emotion out of... out of him. Oh geez... Rosetta, she succeeded in that area too, freaking emotion, only, while the memory's diga-dulled around the edges some and tick-like babies of remorse have begun to feed, still, she made her mark.

Yeah, diga-Dino cares about her. Yeah, he met her first. Yeah, I'm his best friend: no, she can't just pop up until... oh... until she feels better, too. Ugh. How complicated. How many others had to be affected from this mess? Mostly him, but webs of cracks must attach to areas other than me and this tumult of diga-dinaurians, as in like twelve at the very most, literally. Still, the cracks have shattered, and thus they spread, and now they lay.

Gritting up my teeth and worrying my past-the-floor-length fire hair to waves instead of a long, thin, and straight billowing sheen, much unlike diga-Din-Din's, I poke my nose into a brown slot through the rippling waterfall of immense purple. And, oop, forgot, here it comes: I fall back under the crashing blow of itching, itching, _Bwaaaahhh-chuuuuuuuooooooooo!_

Surely enough, my stumble causes commotion, just how it always should be, and out pops Raptin immediately. His golden orbs, I notice, carefully caress me over just to make sure I diga-didn't accidentally split my head open, only for his maw to peel open a sneer as a finger raises and pokes through the air, right at me, and here comes the chastising.

"What sort of a buffoon are you coming across as, fool? Do you suppose you can cause all of the racket you desire to churn over? Do you suppose you can simply crack out your pint-size brain and leave your innards just here? No. Stop acting as if you are about to die. Such a foppish hazard in this area. Be careful you do not stain anything, while you are at it. You do not understand how often the dear king has had to clean over this spitting image prior to departure, and the amount of heart and effort poured into it so deeply. Take care in your surroundings, if not yourself: but do not think you will get off so lightly for—"

Okay I get it shut up you diga-don't want me to diga-die but it freaking takes more than that, crazy. I slap a hand over his cheek and while the shock sinks in hands latch over a moonlit arm and I plow him through hallways until we pour into that little chamber at the direct other end of the freaking starship so that I can show off my little catch to diga-Dino and then we'll all go out, out into the world, and we'll see what we can find, probably start off with diga-Diggins, finally explain to him about Vivian actually getting together with him, just as we've diga-desired and needed for our lives, and it'll all be good.

Holding up, waving a cookie-colored hand, I plot my own pathway throughout the chamber and knock on wood. Fake wood. Real pillar holding up the canopy of bed silks. "Hey... hey... you diga-doing okay?"

I can't help but note how tiny and insignificant my voice becomes when speaking with him. Like a little soft stuffed animal, it hops into his arms and cuddles into him in the hopes that he'll at least learn to love it, at least keep it warm and safe, if he can't diga-do much else in his current state. I can't really tell how much has bloomed after his fateful encounter called yesterday, though still he lies, pretty much in the same crumpled up position. He'll... come with me and the older boy and we'll all set out for Vivosaur Island and it'll be fun. Now just to intake some shaky breathing skills and see how well I form these very thoughts into words.

Gently bonking a hand over his frilly spikes of a head, his so soft and fluffy and thick and gray, unlike my own hair, I turn over him and bite my lip, nervously tug it, chew it for a moment. How to configure without screwing too much up. Then again it's impossible not to mess up. Let's just diga-devour some air and see how it goes. That's all that's in my hands. That's all the stellar use embedded in me, that right here.

"Would diga-Din-Din..." His gentle and very favorite, also only, nickname. Affectionate. He likes it. I can always tell with that one. "...like to go outdoors..." Okay. Diga-deep breath. Last word. Here it comes. "...today?" Pacing myself, right here, right now, that's all there is to it. I hold my breath, and I see, after a small shake that makes me want to hug him tightly and keep him safe, so diga-does he. It's quiet, now, and we're both staring but no one shares a word, only he stops and sighs finally and it's been diga-decided all for me on this tidbit of resignation: no; can't diga-do it; as much as I wish I could.

It fuels and burns within me like it always will, like a dragon of a creature roaring up my veins and threatening to capsize the Jkonna we all know and love. All that holds me back is a crusty, gilded hand of rocks and gold and some sort of mixture in between as Bliss's hazel eyes hold me and she shrugs her awkward shrug over her humped back, cuz that's all that can be said, all that can be diga-done.

Because it was the other plan, I gesticulate, and Raptin nods and he stays in my place. I'll.. go out on my own. Maybe I'll find something worthwhile. I gotta cling to this hope, and it's pulling me outside of this cramped but lovely starship which, although it's awesome and all of the diga-dinaurians are too, that's just it: diga-dinaurians.

The others wait outside. Outside... such a mysterious sort of word. Just the letters bound to form it curve then stick and slide and peer out into the world.

I think Bliss is rubbing off on me. Shaking my head, I gotta diga-do what I gotta diga-do, and maybe ideas'll happen here. Plus now Raptin can tickle the boy in peace, knowing his single witness has gone truant. Not that I want to leave him here, though at least he'll have someone else to watch over him, someone else that I can trust.

And for the second time today my freaking pink brain flashes at the pink girl alarmingly, like maybe I could've trusted her if she wasn't what she is, if she hadn't gone rogue on us, but it's too late now. I shake my head to move bangs; bangs pierce my eyes; my eyes start to water. The rest of my hair starts a wave that ends in a sad flop. Okay great. Let's just get me out of here for now. Offering an awkward, stubby shake of the hand in the air, I pace myself back and disperse through the gel entrance. My head tilts back and I diga-determine whether to see if diga-Dynal's around, whether to tell him he won't be coming, but nah, I wanna get out of here and go check out my friends for once. As many of the people he and I know as I can, and then left behind when we learned about his diga-dad—no, no: his very awesome diga-dad.

Gently, I pull myself out from the area and back toward a middle-grounds sort of walled off area, all but one open midsection diga-deprived of shiny white towering over it, and step inside, onto the squishy, fluffy pad taking up the entire space. Now, was there a switch I had t—

Apparently not. Okay then.

Black curtains pierced by stars surround me and space and coldness darkness and moving lots of motion fast motion it's not too bad though not too diga-dizzy here I can hold by my own now and it all slows to a halt and my numbed, somewhat chilled body slaps on the pad connecting in the basement of the Fossil Center. Alone this time. Last time... right. Her. Rosetta. Guh.

My single companion, well, group of them, results to be my vivosaurs, who cheerfully find new reasons to hate each other while I'm left to my resources in the attempt to find my way outta here. If the very top floor wasn't the only one above ground, I'd try to bust a window or something; although there might be another way to get outta here if I shift around and search for it. Maybe I'll... just so happen to chance by someone I know? That'd be pretty sweet. Again. Would love to see them again. Was hoping diga-Dino'd be there, but I guess his time hasn't come yet. Just like Foster was saying, I've gotta take it easy.

 _Whoa. You just acknowledged him. You okay there?_ Bliss's hazel eyes perk my way in their quick, concise way, diga-dotted by a diga-darkened texture as usual and jolting toward me like I'm crazy.

A loud groan attempts to sneakily cut off her words.

 _You're a failure, Foster. Oh... oh hey. Foster. Failure. Is this alliteration I smell? Foster the failure! Why, it fits like a boot! The only simile that can truly portray this sense of unity within me! Within us! Oh, dear, hooray! I am enjoying this!_

 _Jkonna, she's trying to cross me off as crass, but, I mean, look. at. her. It. More an 'it' than a 'her' if you ask me. Don't you get what I'm saying here? Don't tell me you don't. Don't. Don't. Ehhhhhh. EH!_

Okay, that's just creepy. _Guys, my gosh, shut up, digadig, before I fall or something horribly diga-dramatic and painful like that. I just wanna find my friend, y'know, reunite and reconnect with some of them, geez. Diga-do you have to be so creepy all the time? No. Not just Bliss. Freaking both of you. Digaaa._ I really diga-don't get what's going on with these guys, but they should stop. It's becoming more than slightly irritating.

They're quiet for now until Bomba voices her concern for the singeing smell wafting out of her nostrils and Morie's stuck trying to convince her again that she can breathe fire and it's natural.

In the end, I diga-don't search out for a secret passage and try to run up all of the mismatched patches of stairs and ladders and plains of regular stretched-out land to cover, passing over balconies, diga-ducking beneath areas just a little too squeezed for reasons that'd make sense if I was freaking diga-Diggins, until I've crawled up and outta the ample space below. Forking back my slumped bangs before they sneak up and stab me again like unsuspected ninjas, I trot slowly through the purple carpeted areas and nod my head toward the blonde at the front desk, smirking behind a hand I quickly toss up.

Wendy. That one's Wendy. In diga-Dino's last excursion, one of his few, sadly, he'd mentioned how he hadn't seen her, that annoying girl with the rose bun pinned up in her hair, her emerald eyes glistening either because of too much emotion or not enough. We're both betting on the last one, though, cuz she's Wendy like that. Diga-dusting at her grassy jumpsuit softly, pinching toward the soft fabric, gently raising a pale but sun-glanced finger to brush off her name tag like she always diga-does, diga-displaying just how much pride she's got, Wendy peers back toward me, now pursing her lips so those look like a rose too. A thorny rose. A mad rose. Evil rose. Evil Rosi—

Getting ahead of myself there. Slow diga-down, Jkonna. Because she keeps on giving me that suggestive look, the one telling me to get the heck outta here cuz she diga-doesn't wanna see my little brown face around here since I'm annoying, which sucks for her since I diga-do happen to be technically adopted here now, I diga-do move on, though. Cuz I'm nice? Sure why not. Wonder what diga-Dino would've diga-done: oh, what am I saying, stare back, diga-duh, until she gritted her teeth and growled words at him to try to take him over. Which hasn't worked so far.

I diga-duck over to the left hallway, the carpet snug around my toes and warm until I've entered the cleaning chamber and carpet becomes an extinct creature. It's just, like, carpeting and diga-dirt diga-don't bode well. More like impossible mess.

Diga-decorating the interior with multiple sorts of pickaxes and other equipment, hammers, drills, those much larger than regular size and the like, diga-Diggins probably suddenly wanting to make it look all shiny, there whirrs that little tabula rasa guy. Similarly looking to technology, but not, diga-don't say that to their faces or those claw hands of theirs pinch, the oval face and oval body and oval tail hover all together in one compact little creature, this of silvery texture, until he raises one beady black eye and diga-detects me. Steam happens. Whirring happens. I awkwardly try to wave at him and bite by lip while I'm diga-doing it because this feels foolish and futile and those eyes aren't getting any more bigger or hopeful.

He yells in a sort of sharp, clipped screech I've never heard of before: "STATE YOUR NAME—BEEP." His unnecessarily loud voice jitters diga-down my spine, and only now it sinks in what a terrible idea this was. Even the little yellow horn on his head starts like spinning or something.

"Um, Jkonna, digadig!" Wince. Ugh. I hate my digadig accent sometimes. Like right about now. Also that stutter wasn't a smooth move.

The eyebrows the thing diga-doesn't have arch threateningly. I can feel their vibration shoved up my throat. Awkward coughing. When quickly, after that, his protocol of raised-pinching-claws falls to the sides of his oval body and he peers somewhat irregularly my way, like the universe or something is my fault. If that even makes sense. "Jih-kaw-nah? Bo—oooop? Name... name Doug and Dino bring up much. Ding-ding!" I diga-dunno what I diga-did but holy turd this relief is a beautiful creature.

 _Relief isn't a creature._

 _Foster. I just. Can't. Digadig._

So perhaps at some point when this thing first turned up in the Fossil Center and took over the Cleaning Room, diga-Dino happened to be there, and now they're friends or something, probably because he tried really bad jokes, those jokes that he tries that always make me cringe, but nice try. But still, that's more than just a relief for my sorry hide, since this place was all but closed up when this guy showed and took it over. I think now he got really into both sprucing the place up and trying to clean fossil fighters' fossils while they're not looking diga-directly at it. Something like that. Sounds like him.

Since I've got no fossils and wanna evacuate as safely and as soon as possible, I pull my head back to peer toward what the diga-dude's working on now. If I act interested, then I can go without him glaring or something. Whirring and hovering over the top step of a rickety old wooden ladder—sounds like diga-Diggins to own that—his clawed hands, diga-deciding I wanna see what he'd diga-doing, press on forward and fixate the not life-size but Jkonna-size, no, three-Jkonna-size pickaxe: a half-moon slab of silver tied and knotted to a professionally carved and splinter-removed stick, all shined and perfected in not purple but turquoise. Hooray for a change of color choice. Although that matches his hair and eye color so what can I actually say.

Once he's fastened it to his suggestions of placement by spikes in the wall and a shelf, or as shelf-like as that's getting, he waggles his fingers and I try to stare at it happily some more before diga-disappearing out the way I'd come in. A little rushed. No: very rushed.

That all said and diga-done, I rush until removed from the Fossil Center and, pausing in place, staring around and around this entire area, hearing the waves lapping and crashing into shore just ahead, the mud and gravel squelching beneath my bare toes, I glance upward toward the catching sunrise. Oh, so I have gotten off schedule. Oops. I'll just stay here until night and fall right asleep when I arrive back... uh... home.

Now... who am I supposed to see first? How's all this supposed to work? It's not like I've checked up on most of them in awhile, so it might be kinda awkward to just stick my head in and yell. Would it..? Ugh, I feel so lopsided after, speaking of, yelling back at Rosie after everything, but it's not like I have the courage to go up to her right now. It... might not be so great an idea, anyways. Guilt swells even as I try to assure myself of how okay it'll be, because it diga-doesn't feel so much that way, when the voices tune into me yet again. They diga-do that a lot. Kinda like it's their job. In a way it might be.

It's kinda hard to hear, as I'm not whatsoever focusing on the voices in my head, or the boat that'll tail me to diga-dig sites in front of me, or even the people that flock around me anymore. I'm not sure what I'm thinking about. A massive fog of graying colors streams around and wraps me into its little bows of thick, creamy substance. Worry's there; worry's always there, and so is he. Worry for him. I diga-dunno what else to think about now. It's always that little area. I guess I'm going a little crazy from all that, in a way. Need to get out more myself. His intake of pain has webbed out and cracked the glass of other lives, too: including this little flaming-headed digadig right here. Long straight-back streams of warm colors splay out in my hair, poised in such form to gift me a feeling of not quite power but of this substance raining diga-down into me.

The words diga-don't come, from anyone, when out of nowhere a paw of a hand squeezes my head. I peer up into the thick fingers of brown sugar coloring and stare at those nails though. Almost tailored to be like fangs. Glancing up in front of me, I'm only met by a full-on green face: a mask, really, of some generic likes of a snout-sporting vivosaur, most likely a scaled biped resembling a freaking t-rex or maybe acro—yeah, Bliss, that's right, you. Brown mask's-eyes peer back at me and diga-dark eyeholes mean I can't even see his pupils, but I diga-do see him.

I try to blow some bangs that've been messed up from my forehead and fail. "Urrr, Saurhead? What's... up? Diga?" See, now, if everyone wore such mask and it diga-didn't seem to be such a mistaken rarity, I'd have a hard time singling this one guy out, no matter his beefiness or fairly tanned skin, not one to rival my own diga-darkness but sorta like a shadow of my own. But see, it's some sorta mask that nobody else seems to ever own. Like ever. Even his creepily committed fans.

"I'm aliiive and kickin'! How're you doing, feisty girl?" Gruff and rough and tough: that's the guy who got his butt handed to him in a really messed up battle with diga-Dino. Unfortunately I was... absent for the event. Cuz diga-dumb reasons. Cuz freaking Watcher the tad of a bad granddad. Still, word spreads like peanut butter on bread, and soon I caught wind upon my return.

And yet: gruff and rough and tough, I said, and gruff and rough and tough I say, for that's the crazy big man I know. He's also got a brother; we diga-don't speak much of him. "Well, I gotta say, I'm particularly alive and kickin' as well, digadig, counting all things in place. Diga-Dino... heeee's another story—no worries no worries he's fine I think and I'll make sure he stays that way but man wacko." I awkwardly attempt at a laugh and choke on my own little charred pieces.

Thank gosh he diga-doesn't judge. "Speakin' of wackos, you remember my brother?" Saurhead come on we just went over this in that back of my head only my vivosaurs get cozy in we never speak of this again. "Well... y'see..." Oop. Too late. Turd. "I've been visiting him over the days, keeping him company, hey? He's not all that bad a guy, Bartholomew, when he shapes up in the end. Just... had a bad streak. Like I said, he has a son... a son I sort of could've been a better uncle to; and he had a wife once. She was pretty..." Those words float off into the breeze, the imprint in my mind of what this "pretty" may be. "Maybe you guys should come and visit him too. They're treating him okay, I guess; he'd like it more if he had less carrot sandwiches, but it'll take him time... Time heals some things. I think all he needs is some time."

Whistling like that wasn't all heavy or anything, the hand removes from my head and the beefy man in the t-shirt and the flame pants saunters off so freaking casually, allowing me to muss up my poor bangs in peace. No, I diga-don't get all that far in fixing them; but yeah, it's mostly on me, not on the female I suddenly check out turning around while I'm hopping and struggling with my really tangled hair.

Her long and diga-dark-as-night dress fans out as she stutters in step, a shiny pair of high heels only visible in her floaty gait. Because I recognize this pale lady as well, her own orange locks of hair much more subdued and much less flame-y red than mine, like we're almost related and man I wish we were she's so cool, I yell out. It's almost a casual screech.

"BEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Still, that yelp happens and it's pretty palpable like how blue the sky is that Bea Ginner's heard me, or, if I'm diga-Dino, Bea Ginning Ginner, let's all just get fancy while we're at it. Up on the right side of the gravel trail she hops, then pulls off to a stop, quietly waiting for me and then towering over me when I turn up because man she's tall. Those heels diga-do no favors to her already well-sized body my gosh. I feel so short again; diga-Dino would be laughing and crying and all that jazz if he saw this because I know he'd still be a tiny bit taller.

It hurts to think of him like he's here. I'm gonna stop now. Or well try to. It probably won't work very well.

Muttering under pale-as-the-moon lips, she stares through me under her diga-dark orbs and that hair, "Where did you come from, Jkonna? I feel like you just dispersed for ages. It felt quite strange. I'm supposed to be your friend, aren't I? Nick Nack's upset because he hasn't been able to openly tell you about our engagement and it peeves him to not share this news already."

...lady, slow diga-down. I literally crash into the wooden wall of the fancy brightly-lit and freshly-maintained Hotel... whose name I forgot. She has yet to've told us she even had feelings for that cooky guy, let alone diga-dating, let alone freaking engaged. My gosh, when diga-does she hold up a little? Well then again she also mentioned Nick Nack had been trying to garner and failed to garner attention to the matter so he tried at least. Points for that. Always points for trying cuz trying's more important.

Once we take the elaborately, painstakingly carved elevator and handle through the diga-door and the music that immediately sets off in his crammed room cues out in its crazy funky jazziness of all time, the blonde guy from the back, who's also taller than Bea, raises his gently-spiked head and peers through his bright red mask tied just over his eyes so that whole whiteness is all I'll ever diga-distinguish. Speaking of engagement, diga-don't tell me he's wearing a white version of that thing on the wedding.

Oh never mind he's going to.

Speaking in his deep and laid-back, breezy accent, the man raises his peachy hands and pokes toward me through the air. "Oohhh, Jkonna, I see the force may bequeath you today! After knocking out two stones with one bird, you've come to pay a visit, do I see?" Uh. I diga-dunno. Diga-do you see? That mask, man. It's hard to tell how your eyesight actually manages. All of this strange merchandise sitting around in rabid colors and sizes diga-doesn't help matters, either. Diga-decorating the bed, walls, tiny protruding stone rainbow of a balcony, ceiling, just about all the floor space. Just about everything feels a touch of his strange taste in items. In everything, really. I've never gotten to questioning his bright red, fuzzy toga linked and lined in a storm of feathers. Kinda want to.

Even as I stand there, hands stuck in another sheet of hair impeded by these impossible knots, the itchy tangle of embarrassment wraps around in me as I catch onto that look the two share. Oh. Gosh. They like like _like_ each other. Well, gee, that explains a lot. The way she tilts, the way his moves mirror hers, how her eyes never leave him and his hands gently scuff at her hair and now I think is the perfect time to leave.

Spewing apologies and complications, I flee as the words trailing me, so throaty and deep, accompany the thank-yous I'd been expecting: "Mercy bee-comb! Grassy us! Dinky shakes! And of course, marching frig-mas!" The last one was so close though oh my gosh. _Merry frig-mas,_ like the holiday, the celebration of snow and snuggles and hot chocolate. So close though.

It's then that I realize: is Nick Nack's last name Nack or... something else? Oh gosh, I diga-don't wanna know. Let's pretend he'll just be Nick Nack Ginner to spare my brain of a scrambled misery.

All in all, they're people, though: people I know. People I'm happy to've stumbled upon, no matter how awkward the meeting. Romantic meeting.

I can't help but like them.

On my way tumbling diga-down and out the lovely but also suddenly love-overflowed and complicated Hotel, I can't help but glance toward the elevator, the one on the right side in the midst of a white and perfectly shined chamber, that one accepting all people in via open, white arms. There, up that elevator, final room on the right, open the diga-door and go to the past and diga-Dino once lived in that very chamber. Diga-dolls had been played with, before they were taken by Raptin and his sister, before they turned out to be actually called sub idolcomps though diga-dolls is cooler, before we found the final white one, that gigantic monster of a fifth representing finally all five elements of fire, water, air, earth, and neutral oh joy. Before things set in motion, fate spiraled, gears of time churned, and his spirit sunk much lower than it should've.

So caught within the ensnared hands of my memories that so beckon me giddily, diga-disguised in warm mittens that make them appear kind and warm and snuggles but in reality their stench of it's-not-like-this-anymore breathes stricken over me, and this whole convection current's going on in me so I diga-don't really notice when I bump into the kid wearing the cape until I've tripped and gravel kisses my forehead in lots and lots of tiny little skin holes on the face. Spewing tiny and useless pebbles, I skitter for purchase and turn back to said kid only to see he's staring back at me and when that complex of black-and-yellow, clashing like a plaid vivosaur, overcomes me, the name Holt materializes in my head and I sprint off before his smile captures me.

That kid, man. He freaks me out. It's simple: Holt has a thing for mine carts and I... really... diga... don't.

Whether it's by choice or chance, grasses sneak up and crunch underneath me as I bristle and try to knit out the excess grit on my face, and a triad of looming structures stands before me, upholding what makes the Guild Area quite easily. In the midst of the boasting greatness, also showing off the bulkiest of the shadows, the Richmond Building, also known as Casa de Rosie, stands mighty and tall before me, and like the little turd I am I slink around a corner and buzz off after that, barging through a small wooden diga-door to the much brighter and cheerful interior of the far-off building of the Fossil Guild. It might have piteous shopkeepers. Those piteous shopkeepers might have sweets on them.

It all works out in the end. Sort of.

A single teardrop of a medal splats into my hand I diga-didn't see outstretched, probably because the one within diga-did it, and the voice inside of it amplifies to a level I'd managed to tune out earlier. The diga-deep and low but otherwise booming tone bursts through me. _Jkonna, I don't have much else to say to your face right now other than what a drawling ditz you are and that you need to stop stuttering around so much and actually work, here. Remember, this is gonna be Dino's new play zone, and the more you mess it all over, the sooner he'll be cracked, maybe one too many times we dunno. So play your cards carefully for once. Then again I bet you'll never listen to this and take it seriously, so whyyyy am I trying._

 _Because you're freaking Foster, digadig._ All I can muster is a rough snort in the direction of the cool blue medal in my hand.

 _Just... uuugh, be careful out there or something. You're sneaking around past places like the Rosetta's backyard, since I think the technical backyard was swallowed up by that building's infrastructure, but you get what I mean. Probably. You're better than Bliss, at least._ A haughty harrumph in the corner. _You're stupid, but that's okay as long as your stupidity helps your idiot best friend instead of harming him. You guys are as stupid as I am oblivious, so it's... pretty bad I guess but it's not real embarrassing or a hazard or anything. Probably. Again. You're a nutshell._

While he's trying to instruct me, my mind's wandered elsewhere, and neither of us offer the attention span to notice when something else barrels me and then I fall and he scatters and I have to pluck him before the lady's sharp spikes of heels crack into him. As Foster as he is, not even he diga-deserves such an end. And I.. kinda diga-don't want him to end. That'd be, like, mean and stuff. Thankfully he diga-doesn't argue. I quickly attempt to pull myself together until it diga-doesn't work and I shoulder off all my loose pieces to pull out chocolate hands and allow the bubblegum lady to use my assistance. Long, coiling locks of lemony hair plow from her head to her... it's past the chest, I know that far, and noticeably huge, black orbs peer toward me. Or at least, a nexus so blackish and diga-defined they look black.

A stutter. A collapse in on herself and the gently-dotted white tank top she's got on pulls as she diga-does. "S-sorry there! Ugh, so clumsy." Brushing a hand through her mostly spotless curls, her orbs fall over on me and her narrowly tanned skin brushed up against mine. "Oh, dear me, is this Jkonna I see?" And there it is, an effortless grin.

Her voice quick but sugared of slurring honey, she raises a diga-dainty hand and prods over mine slightly, not quite shaking it but none else either. "I guess you wouldn't recognize me that well since we haven't met personally, although my son happens to speak of you all the time, I must say. You and Dino. He adores you."

Okay. Lemme think of people. Been diga-doing that a lot today. So... she's got lots of blonde hair and she has a little son, young enough to think we're cool or... or something. Boy; tiny; bright; I certainly recall that hair somewhere, not so much the eyes. And somehow, like the amazing person I am not, I diga-do manage to fish out a name.

"Breckan! Yeah. That kid." Haven't seen him much, but he has a little kid friend around his age whose name I'm sure my luck has run out on remembering, and... toys. Like... little action figures of vivosaurs, probably throw in one of Saurhead, irremovable mask included. Looking up to diga-Dino sounds like a thing that might've happened. While I diga-don't quite know him like I know, say, the diga-Dino himself, or, like, Wendy, even, or Nick Nack or, heck, Rosetta, he's a little kid and little kids are adorable and that woman has something on her mind including her kid and apparently me and so it would be a crime not to put up with it. "So whaddaya want, diga?" My habit of pulling at my tunic commences. I wonder how awkward that looks. Feels awkward. But it happens anyways, and it looks like I'm not stopping myself.

She blurts it all out, like she's scared I'll make her stop "Oop! Well! His birthday's coming up... a couple months ahead, but, well, I'd like to be careful in ordering just the right gifts for him, so picking little trinkets up early is what I'm up to. As well, I've been inviting kids... you know, Robbie"—oh, that's the other kid—"Clem"—no please no that name—"and a few others as well, you may have heard of Scoute?" Well, no, haven't. Maybe diga-Dino has; he was freaking everywhere before... well... that. I... not so much. Mostly just followed him around and got into trouble on my own a lot.

"But... well... I was thinking of having older kids over. You know, ones that he'd look up to a little, that he'd want to see. And I figured that you and Dino and a couple of others would make a nice, snug fit. So... if it all works out, I'll keep you updated later on if you'd like to show, yes, so that I can make sure plans stay smooth... Er... there's... you know that corner over there, where they've got clothes for sale?" In fact, as I turn my head, icy eyes diga-do make contact with small racks of fabrics to sell for nice things to wear and all that good stuff, in the corner by one of the three booths diga-dominating the chamber, on a tidy rack. "So, uh, we could meet there in two weeks, y'know, fourteen days... to finish up more preparations, set up a permanent date? I know it's early, but..."

Early... early means much more allotted time to return my best friend to the person he's supposed to be, as well as to stop pressuring me so much, give even more time to experiment if needed. Early means I can try to feel more confident in myself and give Foster more chances to speak, maybe help Bliss with what's going on in that strange new poet mind I diga-didn't expect, and of course that whole blossoming relationship between the other two, and also just Bomba in general.

"Oh, yeah, that's fine, diga."

She has no idea.

Score.

 **Mmm... hooray for Jkonna? Hahaha, we'll have to see...**

 **Just curious, does anyone even remotely know who Breckan is, or any of the other names? Robbie, Scoute.. Clem? Clem's the only one who was in more than one previous chapter (all mentioned in The Lost Fossil Fighter at least once.. most only once) . XD  
Clem, though. He showed up a few times... he's... interesting. If you don't know any of them, that's fine, too. You'll see and hear more of them in the future~**

 **Merry Christmas~!**


	11. Do: Love and Dynasty

**Me: I'm a little bit excited for these next couple of chapters. While this one is going to be the last non-Jkonna-POV'd chapter in... a while (heh, dunno how long, a good chunk), they both have stories and I'm excited for those. X3**

 **Droplet: -Dude, this entire thing you're writing? Y'know that? That's a story.-**

 **Me: really ewe**

 **Droplet: -oh yes-**

 **Pippy: -Listening to the two of you really puts me in a tizzy!-**

 **Harei: -Very worrying...-**

 **Droplet: snaps at her -LEAVE ME ALONE WITH THE PIPSTER-**

 **Harei: owo -o-o-ok-kay..?-**

 **Droplet: eyes dramatically flash -HE DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU-**

 **Harei: -L-L-L-LIKE You're... o-one to... t-t-t-tt-ttalk..?-**

 **Lone: -HAAAAAHHAHAHHH-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 11: Love and Dynasty

 _Dino_

It's... gotten a little quiet around here. I'm not really sure what did it, but the permanent darkness shadowing everything from the vortex of windows dotted in stars gives off that eerie look, and sometimes I start to really lose that slipping sensation of warmth and love and holding, that wordless feeling of holding one, the blankets bundle over me and get dragged alongside by feeble feet that can't even lift but kick into the plush flooring with each scrabble of a motion, and then I fall plop onto the soft, reigning cushion that makes up my dad's bed in the other room and I stay there, hopping slightly, from some emotion in the back of my head, as he sets about his ways and the creatures I call home gather like stubborn emotions. A specifically wet one flops into my arms and mutters words around her snout I pretend not to hear so she has to repeat them again: it's silly.

Lonely, maybe. Noise stopped inflating my surroundings, in the least. She's... out, right now. Hasn't returned. Days passed and she's still not here. Three. I started counting. Raptin can't really babysit me always... it's not like his old-age orbs are allowed to watch over me at any and all times. Dad can't, either, but it's okay to wait here and watch his figure traipse in sometimes, then flutter off and traipse in again, caressing his eyes over my bundled figure. It's warm here, even with Droplet's fins dripping as much as they do. I can poke at her flabby little body; it's fun to watch the fat roll around like waves on her. Judging over the color composition such fins take up, it basically works: the whites and grays on the edges like foam, her diamond of sea blues, icy blues, night blues scattered and held within as the waves. It kinda works. Especially if I squint and stare at only one half of her body. Less island-y.

It's also warm because a golden-scaled creature, like a crazy vivosaur mom, always tries to make sure I'm not too hot, not too cold, full and fit and... she reminds me, occasionally, of the mom I'd lost, who I do love, and will always love, just as my dad does, but in Harei's nature and actions, she resurrects little chips of memories. I think that's why Dad likes her.

He likes Pippy because of his astonishing amount of manners compared to everyone else. Pippy can act all prim, proper, upright, almost shiny in his glowing amount of knowledge on the way to correctly treat someone else without scorning another in the process. Of all the tea and crumpets he whines about, he really does make himself quite a gentle...saur..? Gentleman. I dunno. He's that, though. That guy.

In Droplet, my dad finds a sharpness to her that he appreciates. She can prick people just be drizzling her gaze funny all over them. Almost spiny and cold in waters, always drenched in her rivers of droplets, it's pretty obvious why I tried to name her Sharp before I knew both her gender and original name which she insisted on. Good thing, too. I'm not very good at names, for the most part. Harei really lucked out: Droplet and Lone had their own names; Jkonna helped me name Pippy; and we don't need to talk about what happened to Iggy here.

And... Lone... why, my gosh, he hides his tracks but for some strange reason I've never been able to see he really loves that annoying, purple nasaur. Cyan beak stuffed high in the air, she springs at the sound of her name and topples and collapses on top of my overhanging head. I tip at the extra weight; a smaller form of Pippy tops me back up. Teetering, she steers herself using my face as a backup plan and eventually, feeling safe enough I guess, nestles herself a bedding on my spikes of black hair lined simply on one little stoke in orange. She seems to find them soft; I like pretending they intimidate others: this proves exactly how scary they are.

Awkwardly, I lift a hand and pat at the fluffy, scaled, tattered thingy hat on my head. Her blue beak, which I feel because it's the only soft but hard part of her body, preens or pokes at me, one of the two. She mutters something tiredly about stars and pretty stars and solar stars and evil stars, until Droplet reminds her that Guhnash wasn't a star, where Lone retorts that he had three brains therefore he is a star but dude, stars don't have brains, Guhnash is just a weird classification of his own.

Staring out into the comforting semi-darkness of my dad's chambers, this room filled not with the presence but the love of the one he was never able to share it with, I wonder if Guhnash had a lover of his own. Probably not. It'd be hard to go on dates when your two massive planet-eating slither-bodies continue to bump into all these other mega planets and then destroy them accidentally. I dunno if the universe could contain two Guhnashes. His tongue alone, the slimy battlegrounds where the brains flooded in, all around the size of you know well Pippy, horrific, let me just add, that tongue took up all of my attention span and sight. Giant planet-eating weirdos have much more than a tongue dominating their entire body. I couldn't even see the roof of his mouth from where I'd sat; the memories sort of fray around the edges, because of the incident after, but it's still particularly fresh and I know that if I'd seen a roof I would've remembered it. Heck, his mouth hung open somewhere far far away so that starlight flooded in, and even that measured up as a tiny dot of black floating far away in a realm of flabby pink.

Glancing down, I poke again at Droplet's wet fins. Her body rumbles a little angrily, like a storm, and her wet self stares up at me through tiny chinks of icy orbs and she snorts bubbles, which Lone, from above, pops. It all seems to work out relatively well. And because of my two earth vivosaurs and two water vivosaurs, it's not like anyone's going to accidentally hurt someone else because they're all relatively neutral. Iggy... I think he's some special Iggy typing because even though he's covered in gay flames he doesn't seem to notice the water that's flogging me and Lone and everyone but the waterspout sitting on me who's causing it. Honestly, Iggy just sorta sits there all the time as it is: a fireball like him would note if bubbles happened, though. Or just the fact that he's constantly surrounded by aqua-producing creatures and crispy earth vivosaurs.

 _Hey... don't call me that! I don't like the thoughts derived from it! Bwah..._ Harei shakes a gold-studded face and pouts beneath her dark blue streak. _Seriously, Dino, it-it's almost gross..._ Aw oops now she's shivering a little. Doesn't change the heat produced from her just to keep me freaking okay. Gathering up her in my arms too, her huge hips rivaling those of Jkonna's as they slap like stones against me, strong thighs, and then it sort of stops the problem. A little bit.

Because he doesn't wanna be left out, I'm next tackled by the brown one of cute and cuddly demands. _D-don't forget me, Dino! Old bean, please, do not leave me behind! I'd rather wish not to be forgotten!_ I wish I could tell him I'd never do that but see I did once. And because her chirruping is better heard in the andrarch pile, and she doesn't wanna be left out either, little Lonie-poo springs off from my head which hurts and joins the heated mixture below.

 _HELLO MY FRIENDS._

 _H-hi, Lone..? Um, nice to see you? But we could see you up there, too, you know!_

 _Harei, don't go into specifics or it'll kill you._

 _SPECIFICS? THAT'S SUCH A BIG WORD THOUGH. WHY SUCH A BIG WORD. I THOUGHT WE WERE ALL GIRLS WHY DO WE NEED SUCH BIG WORDS._

 _G-gyeeh! I-I'm not a girl! W-we've go-gone over this, g-guys!_

 _Ooop. Pippy, oh dear, I'm sure she didn't mean it._

 _Mean what?_

Suddenly everything pauses that I've ever seen stop and we all stare at those last two words uttered, because none of us have ever heard Lone speak so softly and it's amazing. Just because we're so used to the high-pitched squeak and this is impossible for us, the immediate calming of her senses and the stifling of such chatter makes this already a beautiful sound. My ears are sobbing right now. This beauty is unmatched by any other beauty that's ever been seen before.

But of course worry strikes in the form of a toothed water monster. _Uhhhh. Lone? You feeling okay?_ While it's true that it's nice for her to pipe down, I mean, never in this lifetime have I or anyone ever seen her do it before, let alone she herself ever route for silence. _I mean... I'm sure you know what you're doing, but... is there... any reason you've suddenly... said it like that? So softly and so angelically?_

 _Hurh?_ Still this silence lingers. This peace I haven't had since BL, Before Lone, had encroached upon us. _Uh... not that much..._ Soft, gentle, kind, impassioned... wow. I did not see any of this coming. _Just thought you needed some quiet time... urrh... a load of quiet time... So then I was quiet... but I wanted to talk.. so.. I stopped louding? Is louding a word? I bet louding's a word. Yeah totally a word. Totally. Why is louding a word again?_

Just as much chatters as always but a soft and melodic chatter that I doubt she even realizes, right in this very direct moment, that she has. _W-wow, Lone, your voice is very pretty when it's soft and gentle! When it's not so loud, it's so... calming. And serene, and so very full of love, Lone, so lovely._ And that's the Harei I know and love. Already flocking on the purple one in praise and appeasement and some attempt to pacify her squawking.

The dull, cyan blinking resulted wasn't really what I expected from someone such as flamboyant Lonie-poo. _Euurrhh. It's not that big a deal? I mean I'm just not so loud and crazy what's such a difference why are you all staring so much it's making me feel violated no guys seriously guys guys guys._ Her speech turns to squeals as a lumpy brown loaf of warm, crumpet-like Pippy as his little head prods at her curiously, as if she's suddenly changed in all dimensions now that she's hushed up.

While we're all busy messing around with a new side of the nasaur, who, admittedly, I seem to like both in her loud form and in her lightened version, I don't quite notice the drop off in air and puncture in new light until his feet gently tap into the ground. My head flips up and if Lone was still hanging around up there she'd go flying. Like she knows this too, her stick-like body pricks up some and eyelashes flutter. I awkwardly raise a hand to wave towards my dad, who soon joins us on the other side of the bed. His lilac orbs flicker upon me, then Lone, then me again, a bemused sort of overseen gleam bobbing about in the pupil. In his hands, I notice, a carefully-folded box, covered by more cardboard folding over it clasps in his loose, swishing manner that's tighter than I thought I knew.

"It is a game," he murmurs thoughtfully; Dad's face turns up like he's sifting in every word he chooses before using it, "a game that Jkonna"—Jihahnah—"had brought over once, from the Vivosaur Island. It appears my duties have been put to rest, placated for this time, and I would enjoy the notion of... configuring this... strange device with you?" There, his whole face screws up just the slightest; he has no idea what he's gonna get himself into and would feel much safer if his ditz son was there to help him.

Okay, maybe he didn't think "ditz" son, but I did, so there it is.

Long, glimmering strands of snowy hair fall and capture over his body, and pieces of bed and nears me in his motions, as the delicate, decorative wings of scarlet on his back flutter every couple seconds in his prying of the box and then staring at it. "...I believe the directions are in the modern language that covets of... those... Vivaldi customs. I cannot decipher these."

I can't help it; I giggle. It's just kinda funny to hear him try. Through my seventeen years of being stuck on Vivaldi customs all the while hiding my original life in the back of my head where I'd never look, well, yeah, I can read this kinda junk. I thumb over the parchment letters pulled out from the box and mutter over what sorta place we'd call "Necks and Tails: the Sauropod Board Game," where apparently huge vivosaurs like Pippy splat like artwork over the board, colorful rainbows of placemarks to stand on, like a boardwalk, decorating the interior and around, and apparently if a piece lands on a place where the bottom of a vivosaur is, like its curving tail, one can slide up it to make the freaking game end faster; but to land on a space where its head goes, you have to... slide down the neck and end up even farther behind. Oh joy.

Oh hey, there's a huge purple sauropod dominating a small section of the board. It's totally Lone. Because she notices the clashing of purple scales too, a tiny webbed foot—let's not question it—drags across that brachio just to prove her point. Of course, taking up a longer section of colorful board area is a chunky brown seismo, because seismos are the biggest ones alive, so its—his, for Pippy—tiny midsection serves as a space either for the guy climbing up or falling down him.

I squeak in the vain attempt to get Lone to stop staring at the little character dudes like they're candy. She's salivating. Lone. Oh my gosh, stop it, Lone. Mumbling to myself, too weak and unable to speak for myself, I give a vague raise of the hand and she smirks and steps back. Just like that. Man, why's she becoming so like docile and... listen-y? Turning to the one side, no, my other three have no answer. They've come and sat in a huddle nearby, muttering about things that trickle through the back of my mind, so I could focus on the three of them if I want to, but I'm not too nervous and I've... okay, okay... I've got a game to play, I guess. Deep breaths.

Somehow, in between Lone's random and recurring attempts to make a snack out of plastic and cardboard treats, my terrible reading of the directions which make sense maybe, and Harei's nonstop giggling right behind me, Necks and Tails is set up and Dad plucks the stout, red piece and I choose the skinny blue one. Dad punches out the small spinner using his silvery blue fingers, their size suggesting mine to be kinda bigger than his. Nodding his ovular head, his smooth chin flicking in the flowing movement, he silently asks me to go first.

His hand outstretches; so does mine; they tap one another as I flick the rubber arrow and send it on its way, to which it lands upon red, so therefore I've gotta lift my blue piece to the nearest red square which just so happens to be a stout tail leading upwards, one of icy, jagged crystals, must be an argento, and I'm already winning. Turns tick by as the spinner _zurrrrs_ and _skiks_ until by now Dynal's hit a slope, the top of the argento head, and down he goes from the jolly, smiling face.

If there's any courage left within me, betwixt the _zurrs_ and the _skiks_ I have to ask him something, and I slowly raise my stony orbs up to his gentle, slim expression that watches over me and pours in the warmth on my jagged edges. "Hey..." It comes out like a bark, and the moving of his piece, slowly beginning to slither up a tail, abruptly stops. "Dad..?" Immediately he's there and his hand outstretches and covers over mine. He's not searching me; he's just here.

Man, I love my dad. Jkonna's right; he is an awesome dude in general, let alone an astounding dad. "Yes, Son?" comes his affluent and soft response. Always looking after me. Always there for me. Always smiling, especially when little Lone waddles up toward him and sits on his other motionless fingers. She pecks at one of the other pieces, this a squat, yellow one, but refuses to actually put it in her maw.

"Urh... Could you... tell me..." The words scramble for purchase off my tongue, and every yelp out into the world grazes me. "About... all... of your past? You—always..." Come on. Come on. Come on. "Skip... some of it... never the full story... all—altogether..." Ow. It's like a dental party in my mouth. But okay, it's out. Truly, though, while he only uses bits to sew in the story, it's always different bits, some reused, but never fully in flesh and fixed. It's like... when I think about how he speaks it... uh... Does he have a certain date to hide? Something he doesn't want me to hear? Or is he just weird like that?

While the lilac eyes flash upon me, Dynal doesn't darken. A small beam etches over his lips and his head bobs the slightest. "I was wondering when you would ask such a question." Oh. Okay. So he was expecting me. So it's not really... anything bad, I'm pretty sure. Or at least not scary flashing nightmare creepy junk stuff. Then again, he's Dynal, and judging by the dad I know and love, there's no way he'd... have one of those mysterious and foreboding pasts. I can't really see that.

For a time he voices no more, eyes instead fingering over a piece that's cryptically been moved to the other side of the board, just at the beginning. Mine's been knocked so that it's closer to the end. Lone stares up at me through gleaming bright orbs, not as whitened and chipped as Jkonna's, but full and... strange. Just like her. And her eyelashes. Smiling the slightest, once again, this grin holding him through, Dynal spins again even though he just went and manages to move one space forward onto the yellow, bright yellow, like sunlight yellow. "It all started as I was a child... my entire life began in such form. I suppose you never learned much for our elder planet, ironically named Vavilde, so similar to our new Vivaldi, no? It had no sun like this planet we hover around and... in ways, connect toward. The skies and atmosphere was made up of sparkling scales, like a barrier, like a painting filling our entire world. It relates toward our own skins... our own colors... The world was of more profound iciness than this one, and also further hotter, more extreme, less mild, which may explain your sighting of a similar resistance to both. Not heightened strongly, but surely in existence."

Placing his hand down, he passes the spinner back toward me, apparently satisfied with his one move. I toy with the tiny arrow as he goes on in his gentle, soft but regal, a hidden regal tone. "As a child toward my older days I had no siblings to commerce with, and such an abundance of lessons that I also held no form of committing to friends, so my most closest others were adults my parents of king and queen, elder king and queen, heritage were to invite. We only had our single civilization, our planet smaller and containing of one single land for our lives to flourish, and therefore guests were of quite variety, although all consisted of the trend of surpassing adulthood.

"Therefore I was quiet. Therefore I grew mature, wise, and much stronger than I predicted at an alarming pace." He watches me curiously as I finger at the spinner and, face splatting in red, flicker it, until I'm destined to land on the Pippy square and go sliding down. "I became suitable to meeting with other adults and spoke as if one of them. They... found this impressive. I did not. I found this... I suppose average, as I had no one else to compare with, no differences to define. My much elder parents of ripely decaying age, now that their child was quickly becoming of the throne, never exceptionally prided a soul because they understood children after bearing so many of their own. Unfortunately, not all feel... important, in such a way. I knew my life was significant, that without it our world could very well crumble, but I still had yet to understand much of it."

I know what's coming up.

"Thus produced my cryptic excursions from the castle grounds once I deemed myself old enough to take over when needed."

Fingering over the device now, he flicks it and raises up a smaller sauropod's tail, looking at the tinier size in comparison to the others and the amount of red lined in a dull pink, I'd say it's shuno. "When I entered life, the surprise and fire of this moment had engulfed me and alighted my face so brightly. I never had known such passion before. Let alone ice to walk on and lava to dip in, the warmth I found in it. The joy I soon saw in all of the dinaurians in this world, the sudden brightness I had never quite caught."

As I go and slide down some more on some other random sauropod, my dad's piece raises yet again, and it looks like he's about to win the game. I guess I was close.

"Only I did not understand it."

Like he doesn't know how to describe it, we both go silent for a time; me always refusing to speak so much as he thinks. I think he silently appreciates my profound quietness now, as I've never acted much of this way before. Blabbing's kinda something I did a lot and mostly at the wrong moments. I don't really pay attention, finger what I do, work with what I see, and he does as well, us not really focusing on the game. Outside of my head, we probably both hear Harei randomly screech _OH DEAR NO YOU DIDN'T!_ at the same time, shrieks of giggles ripping out from the collapsed Droplet as Pippy just blushes and woozily faints overboard, head in the pillows.

Lone begins poking around my dad fiercely, like she suddenly has a mission.

As soon as it'd happened, Dad's piece finds its way wending far down a long, dark spiral of sauropod neck that doesn't seem to end. I spin, then, _zuuuuuuurr-rrr-rrr-rr... . Skik,_ and proclaim my new place just after Pippy's head, to which I don't fall onto again. As he wends his way down, his next piece, not going very far at all, lands on a particularly plump purple.

His voice, soothing, watching, rouses.

"Until she found me.

"It was not the first time that we met when I started my excursions, not at all. I saw a patchwork of other faces before even first bumping beside her. I had yet to understand the ways of the world, and although silent, it began to... confuse me, if we would. A strange characteristic we each shared was the lack of frustration within us, the lack of wanting it. I suppose both you and your sister received that gene as well. There were moments... but for the two of you, I never quite... found it." He peers toward me in this lush look of pure love. Daddy love. "When we did finally meet, she began to show me things... wonderful things in life. She would take me places that appeared in their bleakest hour and she would tell me about their beauty. And she would laugh. And it made me laugh, too. Every time.

"She had this power over me... this way to... even in her own bleakest of moments, her own driest of jokes, I always would smile, and I could never stop loving her for them... loving her for trying anyway, even when others would not listen. My... most memorable moments with her..." Gently peeling the spinner from my grasp, which I've been idly twisting this whole time, he sets off and lands into the Pippy square, the one allowing him to climb up the tail like an angelic savior staircase. "When we first met... I recall her staring straight through me—as not a soul had yet to see their coming-to-be-king, I could move without worry, and she had asked me why I looked so lost, if I moved so freely. I told her it was because I would never be alone in my accomplishments, and yet be alone myself... that I could not see any differences... that none of it made sense... She then stared toward what I believe now to be one of my siblings and had casually pushed him into an icicle, turning back to ask me if I would have done the same."

We each take a turn; we each end up on a blue space, one or the other. My hand shakes slightly the entire time I move my piece. "From then on, I knew I wanted to follow her to wherever she would go. From this, she showed me caves behind lavafalls and found me spots where the sky was a strange color, stranger than in surrounding places to which you could only see in a specific position. It was easy to explore, with the world so small and inviting. We would speak with other people at times, and the more we spent together, the more it seemed I could not let go of her, until the moment I took her hand and told her how hard it was becoming to leave every time.

"When she listened... and her other hand took mine..."

His hand shakes too, as he moves his, to where it lands right on the same space as mine, now nestled into yellow.

"I knew... I knew I was in love... I knew I was never letting go again... of this girl...

"Upon her meeting my parents, upon my proposal which had been in the midst of a busy street at the time, so that others would be surrounding us, all of these little differences and passions mixed in... upon her learning of me bearing the crown and her meeting my many siblings... she would always bring a smile. Such a smile.

"And thus my parents passed..."

His piece inches onward.

"And thus we bore our own children..."

My piece inches forward.

"And thus... I... was too happy to be contained in these little whispers... too happy to tell her out loud... but she could feel it... and I could feel it... when I were to hug her tight to me... and she would do the same."

Before we learn who reaches the finishing mark first, a random purple-feathered monster spouts out of nowhere and everything literally scatters until it bounces and lands on top of poor Harei, who brushes at her cheeks and squeals, sobbing unintentionally and surprisingly at the assault.

Staring at the two of them, chirrups and tears, I mutter to myself that I think I know what he means, and I let it fall from my face, too.

And he's here for me. They all are.

 _Droplet_

Staring at me again like I'm crazy, us holding ourselves back just that bit from a passed out Pippy, Harei leans her dark-lined face up close to my snout again and whispers, hand over her mouth, just in case, _Are you sure? There's no going back after, you know. Once it's done, it's done._ She's so motherly, always watching over us, being way too careful. After Dino's debut in all of this craziness, she's stopped caring about herself and worries about everyone else so much I'm seriously freaking out for her sanity. Somehow she manages it. You crazy golden weirdo, Harei. Her warmth still billows to me from here, and her soft but squeakily caring voice follows me everywhere.

 _Yeees, Hareeeeei. I'll be fiiiiiine._ Snorting, I shake my head and droplets scatter, as they always do. _I'm done keeping it from him for so long. If I don't say anything soon, I'll probably just die anyways. It's been eating me up... just like last time, you know. I'm telling you that... even though I don't remember you in my past life, I feel like... I know you somehow. Comforting, I mean._ She blinks back to me. Blue on blue, only hers is dark and foreboding if not for all the brightness pent up in there and mine icy and light. Just icy and light.

Her hips wiggle a little in thought. _Yeah, I guess... d'oh... you guys... You, and Pippy... Lone... Dino... a-all of you... I-I-I'm happy to be here, you know... so happy I was eventually accepted on that day we lost Pippy... s-so thanks..._

 _Oh gosh don't remind me. I still feel a little guilty. My fault for being so snappy and immature back then. Also, just... Pippy, yeah? But you're our friend._ I show off a toothy grin. She shrivels up her nose toward me and blinks back.

 _I think he's coming to! Hush, hush, Droplet! A-and good luck to you!_

 _It's not like I haven't been randomly showing up and asking him to go places with me to talk about serious stuff anyways. Haha... it's.. hard on all of us..._ My head droops. _I just trust I don't make him more sad... He needs more happiness._

Slapping her sparkly hand over my maw, I shush up like suggested as his brownie head raises again and amethyst eyes sparkle our way. A yawn parts his lips and he shakes himself readily on his tiny muffin toes. He puffs out his royal purple stomach, then slumps over again in his kindly Pippy manner, and squeaks, then, in his empathetic tone. _Oh, dear, did I pass out again? I'm mighty sorry, my dear friends! Oh, dear, I'm sorry!_

Harei, giggling, nods him off and approvingly blinks for me, so I offer another bright grin. _Oh, it's all good, Pippy._ Then, cuing the moment to begin, she moseys off some, hopping down onto fluffy tile flooring and allowing Pippy and I to not be exactly swarmed by anyone. Even Lone's in on it, keeping the boys' attention to their weirdo game that has Pippy on the cover. _Hey, uh... could we go out for a bit of fresh air again? Just you and me for a little stroll?_

 _Hmm?_ Gentlemanly enough as he is, he asks no questions, only perks up and nods, like... he enjoys them too. We skirt off as Lone hops and prunes herself, her purple body smacking on top of some hand or another and driving even more attention than the last time she did it as we start off, out of the yawning, massive entrance of a door to our tiny forms and skirt off through the halls, finding that one niche to the side of the throne room nobody notices things in. Sometimes we actually do move, but... right now I wanna sit. So when I land myself on the ground, Pippy copies me. I smile dumbly, not sure what else to do.

Somehow, he sees through not what I'm trying to say but through the whole issue in its whole. _Um... Droplet... dear, you know it's okay to cry around me. I've spilled my tea plenty of times around you! It... just feels safe to... to cry around you, I mean. At least for me, yes. Because I know you won't judge, and what we're going through is a trial we must share, and... you simply delight me, Droplet._

Although the tears haven't quite fallen, what he speaks of does remind me of when I'd cornered Harei that one time and begged her to tell me if she had any crushes, to which I learned that she likes girls. Yeah, I know, didn't see that coming either. I... I dunno, maybe she'll end up with Lone or something if things happen? Now that... she's actually started exploring the world of softness, who knows. Although I'm not some sick match-maker, so what can I say?

Still, hearing Harei's word doesn't mean much for Pippy.

I wonder if he likes guys.

Ew, no, I don't wanna know.

 _Droplet?_ Peering back toward me. While he knows me like his favorite gentlemanly book he'll curl up and read, he hasn't peered into this part of my soul. It's... not exactly something I'm good at showing off. I usually just cover it up, smuggle it, makes it easier, but lately these emotions are getting too strong to keep to myself. So Harei knows, and Lone knows—she's surprisingly trustworthy—because they're the girls and we have to spread our emotions around or we'll just die on the spot or something. It's just something we all need to give off. And... some of them are things we can't just exploit to Pippy, so...

But here I am now. About to let him delve even further into the complex water monster that is me. Lowering my head, I try to mumble the words but they get stuck beneath my tongue on the way out. Peering up tentatively, I can just feel the worry pooling off of him for me, scared that I've... done something bad again and am now about to break down and reveal a horrible secret. I'm okay, dude, stop with that look. I'm fine. I've never done that before; don't think I'm suddenly going t—

A little muffin paw traces my cheek and wipes out the tears I did not notice. Well screw you, emotions.

Now's probably the best time for me to get this over with. I'll just... I say it, I be done with it, I never look back on it again, it'll be... unbearable. I already know with this heavy weight in my chest that trying to lift it and release it will only bring it right back down again, sending me reeling into a further submerge of this... pain. And fear. To be accompanied by loss. But if I don't say anything, it won't heal inside of me. I'll continue to drag this feeling around everywhere, right behind him. Right behind Pippy. And so, I have to... have to tell him. They say it heals if I tell him.

So... uhhh... without... further ado... peering into his sweet, honest eyes, and soon I can't look away, I raise my little mouth and whisper, nearer to him than I thought, _Um... Pippy..?_

In an attempt to calm my nerves, he offers his tiny grin. _Yes, Droplet?_ It doesn't help; my heart's sent into nervous flutters.

 _I'm... falling in love with you again..._

Again... because the last time we were alive... while my memories are scarred and pockmarked... I remember a little more than just my name... and while he never came out unscathed with his own name, only in wishing for a soft and sweet one, he must remember, too. And I can tell he does, because his eyes brighten and sparkle and widen and flow, and I don't know what he's going to do but it looks like tears will be included. Uh-oh...

This pause that's come between us either shows that, because of its lasting, because he hasn't tried to break it yet with an awkward laugh or joke or squeal or yell, because he hasn't run away, and he's still here, he's either too weirded out or disgusted or upset to speak, or...

 _Well... y'see... D-Droplet..._

Oh.

It was all I could do to tell him.

This was bound to happen, though. That's... that's okay...

I shakily force myself down and prepare myself for the mental thrashing I'm going to have after this new and embarrassing moment that's sprouted is over.

 _H-hey... Droplet... D-Droplet!_ His paws come out and he's trying to stop more tears and ugh, this is embarrassing now... he'll want to continue our friendship of course... but... you can't really do that after the words have been released. I can't really just release and move on. I don't want to wave these moments good-bye, but I couldn't hold it in and now this is where all of it's brought me:

rejection.

The sound of my heart in my chest functions as a lighthouse to my tanked boat. If I try to swim, maybe... maybe I'll reach the light eventually... I... ugh... no... not strong enough... shaking all over... oh man... this is bad... this is baaaaad...

 _D-Droplet, please stop crying! Y-you know exactly what I used to feel when you cry! You know what I feel when you cry!_ No I... no I... sh-shut up, that was before this all had to happen again... you can't possibly love me two times in a row... I'm flaky and disinterested, quick for comebacks, ready to beat anyone up at the start of a wave, I'm not as soft as you... _D-Droplet!_

 _When you cry, I want to kiss you, but I get so awkward about it and then I don't know what to do and I just sit he-here al-all a-awkward a-a-a-and..._ Hiccups take over the rest of his speech.

…

Holy turd.

Because I can't help myself and I'm stupid and we're both crying like the ditzes we must be and I can't take it anymore, I end up pushing against the seismo and sidling up against his warmer self, him to my wet side which he tells me, when the blushing commences, that he likes anyways, because it's refreshing in a way, and special, and he wraps his tail into mine and tells me again that I still make him happy, and will always make him happy, no matter how many times we go through this world and fossilize together all over again and return.

 **Me: oh man I'm so happy. I know I hinted at it some but finally it's happened and I am happy.**

 **Droplet Pippy is probably my vivosaur OTP honestly. They're just adorable. Random fact, when we first meet Pippy in the other story, he actually does recognize Droplet, and she him, but they don't remember as much or something because as they become closer, they don't recognize it yet.**

 **Sooo cuuuuuuuute**

 **Harei: gushing freely**

 **Lone: -YAAAS HAVE BABIES FOR ME-**

 **Droplet: -THAT IS NOT HAPPENING YOU STUPID NASAUR-**

 **Pippy: ded**

 **Dino: owo no no no no no -slowly rocks self-**


	12. Ja: He Gets it Outta Me

**Jkonna: I am so ready for all that will be thrown at me in this next chapter. Digadig.**

 **Me: You sound more monotonous than ready.**

 **Bomba: -...Is that unhealthy? Uhhhh... Jkonna, can you try harder to not die?-**

 **Jkonna UGH SHUT UP**

 **Morie: -oh, come on, she's not that bad.-**

 **Jkonna: =w=**

 **Foster: =w=**

 **Jkonna: Go away, Foster**

 **Foster: -I don't feel like it right now. Please ask me later.-**

 **Jkonna: uuugghhhhhhh**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 12: He Gets it Outta Me

 _Jkonna_

"Oh, so, well, uh... I guess it all practically started, digadig, when... um... I was born? Digadig? Diga-does that start it? Or... were you looking for important sort of event thingies? Or is that fine? Um, I'm gonna just assume to start from the beginning and end at right now, diga. Okay? Yeah, okay."

I'm not sure how he diga-drove me into the corner, but here I am, now: stuffed within fluffy clouds of pillows and blankets upon a sea of bedding, his entire body diga-drooping over me until he's almost literally on my lap. I awkwardly pat at a pale orange face, like the sun bathed in pretty sunrise, like there's hope even sprawled out on diga-Dino's face, in the attempt to convince his diga-drained and gooey mind to not fall on top of me _pretty please_. Puffy spikes of hair graze into my shoulder in their gentle manner, and diga-deciding that's as situated as we're getting, I settle myself against the wall once more. My explosion of fiery hair covers him, me, nearby blankets and pillows alike, and also surrounding vivosaurs.

It took me a moment, but for some reason I can't seem to find diga-Droplet or Pippy anywhere; they keep sneaking off or something. Weird. I trust I diga-didn't diga-do something stupid and now this is how they repay me in anger. No, diga-Droplet confronts others when she feels rightly wronged. It's not something you can keep out of that finned path.

Silvery orbs stare bleakly, almost hopelessly up toward my diga-distant face that peers through fogs of layers of life, trying to diga-distinguish the past; well, he wants to hear it, and I diga-dunno if he'll be able to move from diga-Dynal's bed until he diga-does. The white-haired one himself told me he hasn't moved since crowding into it some few diga-days prior. "Urhh..." A slimy wad infiltrates the passages of my body, gelling and rolling into all that it can bypass. By render of such sliminess, the acids inside of me wriggle around in annoyance, but there's not much I can diga-do about it. Somehow he's managed to convince me, not even whispering a word, that I should get this over with already: I know all about him, he might as well peep into a window through my soul.

Still. It's uncomfortable. I poke at my tunic unconvincingly where there's bits of wrinkles, my icy eyes plucking over the brown areas, darker than my skin and yet captured by what light emits from the glowing walls and floors. Light from the stars glimmering outside seeps in through such walls, as they're all windows. Diga-Dino never liked the windows; another oddity that he'd gone and crushed under his lean diga-dinaurian toes.

"So... well... I..." Oh my gosh, Jkonna, stop the spluttering. No big deal. No one other than diga-Dino. My best friend ever. Someone I can rely on. Always. Even now. He honestly listens best when in this slump, when this quiet, so the morbid cache in my head's bemused at my own reaction. Oh, shut up, me. "There was parent. Parents. There were parents, digadig." This is embarrassing. "And, uh, well... in my life, I never really got along with parents. They had orders; I diga-didn't care for orders. But of course they had orders. Digadig children are not raised to be wild and ferocious, diga. They..." Ugh... "They must be... 'honed by nature' and taught to 'listen in their soul for the calling of the world' or something like that. Digadig... it was... kinda painful to hear that all the time.

"Oh, by the way, my grandpa's Watcher. He looks all cheery and junk, but that's because he diga-doesn't care for much outside of his precious granddaughter and diga-dancing. No, no, not me. I'm not his precious granddaughter. Uh... yeah, I have a sister. No... I haven't seen her in... a while, diga." There was some time, not too long ago, we'd visited, and even if Watcher has accepted me again and now I'm all diga-y again and I feel like that piece of me he stole has returned, it's not like we can be buddies and junk now. It... diga-doesn't really work like that. Because people are complicated, and most of them diga-don't match up all that once.

If diga-Dino and I were puzzles, I think we could substitute some of our pieces for the other's, if they were missing some. I think he is right now, and I think that's why my puzzle might feel so empty and impossible in this time. Because I'm trying to fill in his own cracks, and while it diga-does help, now we're both missing bits of us. What we truly need would be to find his old pieces in those hidden spots wedged behind chairs and under beds, so if I'd search for his missing self, then he could be united again. But only he can put his pieces back into himself. I can't diga-do all that much from here.

Expectantly, because of all things to notice it's that I've shut up, gray orbs poke up toward my own icy staring again. If he wasn't so lumped over, he'd be taller than me; for now I'm the big and protective one. How... weird. Yes. Weird. That word's being used a lot. "Uh... Well..." My expectant stutter, the flames diga-dying out on me as I work to speak. Somewhere inside, I'd shut up the fire in the vain hope he'd forget. Well... I diga-dunno... he remembers lots of things, so it looks like I'm screwed either way. Oh turd-filled joy. "So I had parents, and I... had a grandpa, and I guess I still technically have a sister, since she diga-doesn't wanna diga-disown me. No, while I was a pest, my parents never went that far, diga. They... had enough hope for me. Diga... Uh...

"You know the ancients?" Of course he knows the ancients. Who am I talking to: the guy who happens to own not one but two of them, once two of them, until the first had to go away. Iggy. Iggy's an ancient. Him and his crazy igno coolness that he thinks is so hot. "Well... they diga-didn't show up juuuust after you started diga-disturbing turd. It was a... a little more than that, in some cases. Digadigs... sometimes saw them, well, their souls, because of our nature and The Nature and Life and all that junk. Well... they weren't very nice always..."

I pointedly shut up after that to diga-demonstrate how not nice they can be. No not shutting up and staring sullenly, although Iggy happens to commit that a lot. Ancients... the starters of vivosaurs... well... they fought diga-dirty sometimes... and then this was an exception but they... kill people sometimes. My parents, maybe? Maybe the whole reason I'm alive? Just saying? So yeah I diga-don't particularly care for most of them. Maybe I'd never had the chance to appreciate their yelling at me to stop acting so blunt and Jkonna-y, but, well, uh, still. Diga-dead parents.

Carefully picking and choosing my words, I sound just like a mismatched puzzle. "I guess... you could say... diga... that I... diga-don't like... ancients all that... much. Because uhhh sometimes they... they kill... parents." Oh, man, I'm wincing on the inside. This boy and his looks, like wide-eyed staring, pleading, begging, for me to please just tell him, his silent wistfulness that clung and clings and now cloaks me, fills me, because he wanted, needed, yearned to finally have these feelings in him like I diga-do from the boy himself. And here we go. Words are happening. I wonder how pleased he is with himself.

Not really sure how to pick up the pace after that. I sort of stare off into the diga-distance. Stars shoot on by, winking my way as they twirl in gelid motion throughout the diga-darkness of space. It must be lonely up there, to be unable to collide with other celestial beings such as yourself in fear of diga-destroying something big and important. To only whirr on by regularly without a real thought or care. That makes me a little lucky: my arm draped over his side, the scales diga-digging comfortably into my brownie skin, we can be together like this without worrying about harm. Our companionship and touches and hugs, chases, games of tag, only show off our affection, not shower in sparks. Diga-deadly sparks. Even as I sit here and my gaze flips over him like a coin, he stays here with me, without moving, only by my side and always. And it's more than just him. While we've got to be the youngest in our... friend circle, diga-do I diga-dare, that means we also have a variety of nannies to pick from. And they're all people we know... I'd say particularly well. Bases covered, except not all of them for their favorite color. But... besides that, we're pretty set.

And now this supposedly includes Raptin, too. While Rosie's a bit finicky, I guess she counts. Diga-Duna diga-did... before we lost her.

Trying to fuel this sort-of sensation into something spectacular, I toss my head and gleam towards the boy again, small and fragile by my newly strengthened, fitted side. "I... could've acted better about the whole ancients thing. But, see..." C'mon... I promised... I can't just crush this and pretend it's not true... "I'm.. well... they're freaky. Okay, yeah, diga, that's all. They're just freaky. So, uh, digadig, things hap—I mean..." Diga-don't leave anything out. It's for diga-Dino. "I... guess I went a little crazy about them. Acted a lot about fear. Never really knew who to go to as it was. My sister... couldn't help. I, y'know, I needed an adult to put their hand on my shoulder and steer me in the right direction. Digadig... steering diga-didn't happen." I guess... that words it okay. Ugh, I feel so revealed. It's like I've been brought into a bright, new light that shows off all the little cracks and crumples sagging around in my posture, in my position, no, in me, and now it's there for all to see. I can try to pull at my tunic and stretch it out as far as I can, but this light gives all of it away.

And it's creepy.

But I promised.

So it's all I can diga-do to force the words out of my mouth before they diga-disintegrate and I never can say them again. He... wants to, needs to, yearns for these words to cool upon him, to understand me. Because... I guess he'll never be able to unless I stop hiding things. Even those so short like me can stuff little hidden messages behind our backs in both hands and shake our heads, pretend nothing has happened, nothing went wrong, even after everything already diga-did. It's for him. It's for him.

"So... I was... Watcher, with his creepy elder powers, digadig, y'know how creepy he can be, you and Rosetta both, he... stripped me of my identity. That's why, diga, when we met... I diga-didn't have the accent. Uh... or the clothes, digadig. He took... all that away. For, uh, good. Diga," I hiccup the word. Not supposed to come back. Not... supposed to come back. But hey, there it is, because he couldn't find her because she ran away too, eventually, just like me. Only he forgave Pauleen for being his precious little granddaughter. I wonder if she remembers that we're related... Still, it's been years, and I have no clue. Maybe I should tell him this, too. Leave nothing behind.

It's hard though. My chest squeezes. I have to work with myself for a moment prior to even a little bit of convincing diga-doing the trick. "So my... my sister's name was Pauleen... but I diga-dunno if she remembers me. Eheh... again... ha... Watcher's weird magic junk, diga..." There. Got that out, too. Even her name. Ugh. It feels weird to voice it again in my not boisterous, childish and loud but taut and tiny tone. Because nervous. Because everything just feels mismatched and weird right now. Diga-dicey.

His gray body turns to face me, to show that he's here anyways, and he's not moving. I could pretend it's because he literally can't until this story finishes, but it feels missing, empty, listless that way. Wrong?

"Iiiiiit's not exactly simple to live on your own, alone... um... lost in your Knotwood Forest... for a couple years. Diga. It was... kinda embarrassing and annoying and awkward and if I ran into someone, it'd be a diga-digadig, and they'd shun and shoo me off. So, yeah. That was fun. Not. Ha... digadig..." Awkward nibbles poke at my skin. Sweat bunches up in my forehead; I wipe it off but the impression stays. "It took me time before I was lucky enough to run into a fossil fighter. And... urrr... not just any fossil fighter... but a tall one... diga... A tall one, diga, whose skin matched mine, only a little darker, his eyes hard to see because of turquoise hair and glasses."

His eyes light up. He knows who I'm about to introduce. "So... when he found my sadistic little child Jkonna self, he'd immediately taken me back. Digadig... he... mostly knows what the heck is wrong with me because once I began to trust him, I hadn't trusted anyone in awhile, or had anyone who looked at me so... carefully.. and caring... in ages. So it was nice. Very nice. It is nice. Diga." And it is. And he's not alone now in the horde of imbeciles who care for me like I diga-do them. "I still ran away a lot... and I still got into trouble a lot... and before he pacified me with Bliss, Bomba and Morie I'd steal and borrow Tramp a lot, and still diga-did sometimes, like with the Digadigamid thing, if you remember that little excursion... when we, y'know..." First met. "But he was there for me. And I could hardly believe it. Diga...

"Bullwort was always around by then. I think that... Rex, or Vivian, or Snivels somehow knew someone close to him, and that's why he was there and they... ended up stuck with him, but, but diga, I was there at the Digadigamid at the time because Watcher said if I'd freaking help his sorry digadig self he'd restore what he took from me. Wouldn't reclaim me—not that I cared, diga—but he'd restore that. Diga-Diggins could understand that. And... you understood that, too, when you saw me again in my garb and my accent, all diga-decked out..." A lingering sigh. "Digadig...

"But it wasn't that that finally got him to let me have that part of me back. I'd... heard about this Caliosteo place thingy from other fi—no it was Nick Nack. He's apparently got some Joe friend there, digadig? I think he lost his anan over there a few times, you know the gray elephant with the jewels, diga... honestly that guy... But... well... I caught wind from him and ended up telling Watcher Pauleen was there, since he was looking for her, all that turd, and... well... now I'm here. Wait, no..." There's... a couple other pieces to add in there. I think it... maybe it'll make him smile. Yeah, ha, maybe.

His eyes take a moment, but eventually float up to me. Curious. Wondering.

So I boop his nose like the diga-ditz I am. "You exist. And diga-Dynal, and Raptin, uh, Rosie... Nick Nack... all of you and others. You're all on my side now, and that's very nice, digadig. So I'm... I'm pretty happy. No worries about me." Suddenly embarrassed, I eye the fluffy tile ground below and the comforting diga-darkness surrounding us in the form of windows and space and smirk a little at the sight. It's a peaceful sight anyways. Probably diga-doesn't diga-deserve to be smirked at. But I enjoy it. The smirking and the sight.

Silence beside me. All that shows he's still with me is the warmth pooling off of his burrowed figure, nestled in covers, nestled against me. My long strands of hair stay with him, no matter what position he shifts into: shifting happens constantly, actual movement diga-does not. It's not like I put a lot of thought into it: not like I expected him to suddenly start speaking. It'd be nice to hear his voice again, maybe ragged, haggard, bated breathing, broken diga-down, but something like that... it'd just be nice. That's all. A nicety that can't happen; a luxury that's too much. Too much to ask for, as much as I wish of it. Get better...

"Jih—"

"Gyah?" Heat. Heat on my cheeks. It burns.

"Jih-kaw-nuh."

"Uh." What the heck?

Oh. Wait. Wait a second. My eyes flicker back toward his struggling, gray orbs that pump out color somehow, still managing their soft sheen of shadow. Speaking. Why is he speaking. Diga-did a vivosaur of his hear me, thus he hear me, thus... Diga-Dino? What's... going on here? Even as his jaw diga-does move and voice diga-does flicker, it's weak, it's small, it's unreliable, and yet it's whispering my name of all things to say of.

Quiet again. Until, "Who... worries for you?" What? "Who worries... for... you... if... if if—if you... tell everyone not to, and... worry for... for them instead?" Even belied by all the stutters I can tell how quickly he's struggling to evict these words so I'll hear them faster and they'll set in motion sooner and I'll have them in my life longer by precious seconds. Stunned, icy orbs lock unto gray. His hands find mine somewhere. They're pulsating in heat, too. Oh gosh he's not sick is he. "Then you get lonely... and when you're sad and no one com—comes... We-well I worry for you and you you you... you can't tell me..." His head hangs. "...not to." He couldn't be sick if this heat's been inside of me, too. So... what the heck? What was all that?

Furious tears streak diga-down my cheeks, and I'd claw them out of my life if his hands diga-didn't have such a grip—not even a grip but an impact on me. Breathless, I stare diga-dizzily without sight toward my favorite person in the world and try to come in closer to him, staring indefinitely toward him, without exact location but the black and orange blob beside me.

Grunting, I work at my voice until fiery sputters arise with the start of a flame. "No... you're in worse shape. You need the attention, digadig. Stop worrying about me and get better yourself..." Mustering up the bulkiest face I can, as if to suggest I'm the toughest person ever, no, I'm Bartholomew Bullwort, I scrunch up my flaming eyebrows and try to give off a rougher demeanor. I diga-doubt it works, but hey, maybe.

"Not helping." The more he speaks, the stronger his voice gets, and the greater amount of warmth and sparkly speaking returns that I'm used to hearing retort back to me. I diga-didn't realize its comforts had gone until I heard it again, and how much I could... miss such a thing. Miss hearing my friend who always would trot around with me, let me follow him, let him follow me, hear his voice tail and tag me everywhere I go. Being without it isn't exactly something that's happened before, and it's weird to realize how gone it's been from my life. Barren. Missing. Hollow... gaaaah...

Eyes of bright silver, wide and shiny, stare for me still. He hasn't spoken much since but continues to leave his mark on me. On the frame of my life his freaking fingerprints have tattooed over everything, now including my voice of my past. Of my... life beforehand. Of all those wonderful little tidbits I wanted to keep to myself so I wouldn't have to explain them, to explain me, and have that stare, that knowing stare, touch by my heart. Funny how things change. Freaking diga-Dino... diga-darn him. And at the same time, I know I diga-don't really want to call him that, I diga-don't want to feel annoyed and yet I am. An evil knot of unknowing circumstances ties up within me, and I pull at it but it diga-doesn't tear apart.

"You look at me funny, Jkonna." He's... so blunt. Well, then again, diga-Dino's always been that blunt. Sighing, I raise a hand toward his face and poke at a sunrise cheek, like I'll catch onto this new hope if I can feel it beneath the pads of my brownie fingers. "It's not helping, though... y'know..." Biting my lip, my eyes bore diga-deep through the high waves of his soul, where the diga-darkness shadows, the shadows I can't protect him from. "You're real worried..." he mumbles in his voice, his, like he's diga-dressed up in his old clothing again and it's nostalgically him again, the warmth of diga-Dino and not his folded-over shadow reaching hands that pull me into him. And as his own back arcs and mine bends, us switching roles, he's the protective one now.

Because there's no other way to describe it, I mutter, "It's hard, y'know. It's hard, digadig." I sound a little diga-different, too: weaker, now, like we really have switched roles. It's been so long since I've been able to feel safe actually upholding and crafting conversation with him. Losing the faith I stored in him to the shadows beyond my power really tuckers a Jkonna out. Let's hope I can keep my strength in him this time, hold my fists together, actually believe in myself... believe in us a little bit _more_. And because she's Bliss her diga-dumpy voice pokes fun at me and I scald heat in her diga-direction that Bomba would cry for. I diga-don't plan on diga-dating. Shut up.

It's so diga-dumb. Of course he heard it. Perking up some, his spikes rustle and his hand jolts where it clasps along my own. "Eeew." Curt and starched, it's still the wording he would've used, the boy I understood before this makeshift diga-disaster. And whether I can take it or not, he's still the same boy underneath. Gritting my teeth, I try to nod to show off how much I agree to that "eeew" statement, and he snorts and bobbles his head back.

 _Y'know, we're better for more than battles. I mean sure they're fun and they happen first, but, I'm... more than that. We all are._

 _If you were yelling about polysyndentons some five minutes ago, I don't understand why you're talking so philosophically now._

 _Foster, I downright hate you. Curse your soul._

"Diga-Dino?" After sagging slightly, the boy perks up again. I feel it through my pose: leaning on him, clinging to him, tugging for him, resting against him. "How diga-did you... register so quickly again? And how... diga-do I know you won't diga-dip into the diga-darkness soon after?" It's diga-dumb and if I've learned anything via Rosie it's to shut up and believe, but shutting up and believing hasn't solved many problems lately, and it diga-doesn't matter how spread out my arms are, how ready I might think I am to catch him. Because he's diga-Dino, and like he's always been, he'll always be unpredictable. Not so much as I, but it's still there. Prominent. Obvious. Diga.

As he stays in our formation, thinking, I perk too so we're staring into the ceiling of glowing rainbows together. His eyes collect the light easier than my brighter ones do. Colors glint into gray; they bend from blue. Sure, a light blue, an icy blue, a glassy winter blue, but still blue, a becoming bolster that wards off the rainbows. I pout at the ceiling. He mumbles softly in his stupidly silly speak, the one that's notoriously returned, that "I guess we don't know... Er... uh... uh... sorry..." Tucking back, face burning of fire, he glances even farther upwards until tipping back and we both explode into the pillows behind.

An upright smirk slowly etches over his face in faded writing, until it's reflected into me and once our twitches of attempts diga-die out, we're both giggling softly. "Nice job, bum," I squeak.

"Not so bad yourself," he mumbles airily, and then for no reason at all, the giggles worsen into sore bouts of laughter, the kind that he's not used to right now that stick in his throat and force wheezing and coughing until it's just pure, light laughter again and I'm staring at this change as the brightness diga-dances in my eyes. Clouds form in our hearts and we bounce just the slightest until I roll off diga-Dynal's massive king-size bed that was supposed to contain Amethyst too. Thumping loudly into cushioned softness, I giggle again, just a bit. Diga-Dino's face peers childishly over the edge, like a diga-dock into the waves. Because I'm the ocean, I lift a hand and salute for him and he silently watches, hiding behind another smirk.

It feels... strange... to see him morph into this playful creature thing again. He watches the light flicker in my face and notches his head to the side, black and orange spikes flinging overboard with the motion as his hands, bending over the edge, pick into sheets: clueless. I cough.

"Sorry. Again, it's... it's hard to take it all in, digadig. A lot of it's hard, you know..."

Gray quietly scrutinizes. "Yeah... it is." A little softer, a little quieter. "But, uh, you always get so worked up, Jkonna... I know I'm messed up right now, and I know how badly the both of us combined want me back for good, but... you run out of steam so fast and then anger happens and it's well ugly." Okay. He diga-does have a point... Ashamed of myself, a hot stickiness oozes through my body. "But it—hey... it's okay. I know that you and Dynal have me... diga-Jkonna. And you were saying there were others...

"Uh... why'd you bring up Nick Nack, exactly?"

Diga-do I diga-dare? Sure... just diga-don't reveal too much. Might scare him off. As much as I rely on him, he's still a scared baby vivosaur and if I tell it all about the big world it'll run away and cry or something I diga-dunno: he sure cries a lot. "He's... engaged to Bea. I think he's been meaning to tell us for aaaaaaages now, digadig, so... maybe we should look out for them more. I thought we could visit them or something.

"Also..." Just not too much. But... this one's important. Something he's been looking forward to. "Vivian. You know Vivian? Vivian diga-Diggins, if I'm right. Diga-Doug and Vivian diga-Diggins, that's the one. Well... diga, they'd probably like it if we loitered around with them some, instead of staying cooped up in here. Also... our vivosaurs, man. Foster's kicking me just to make sure I remember, isn't he helpful, but... they diga-don't need battles... y'know... they're alive too. I think Pippy's worried again." Diga-dragging my eyes into the glowing, fluffy earth below that beckons for me, I mumble, "You know how they get, diga..."

All is silent and gentle, beckoning for a moment.

 _Thwack_.

Until a lump of diga-Din-Din arrives beside me. His head diga-does glean off the edge of my thigh. I would love to kick him for that, but judging what kinda reaction I'd get from something he diga-did that was accidental in the first place, probably shouldn't risk it. One diga-day I'll kick him for it, but that diga-day is not today; not now, not yet. "Waaaaaaaait. Pause it. Take a step back. Sloooow doown.

"Since when did our One True Pairing become exactly that?"

He remembers. My head swishes straight from the particles of rainbows below and oversees this boy and his reaction. Mostly looks okay. Face squished by the ground he just hit. Otherwise just fanboying. But hey, what can I say? The two turquoise ones are diga-destined for love and greatness diga-do they only stay together. "Well, they diga-did at some point. Not really sure either, but they're officially a thing and I'm going to call them by the same last name until they officially get married."

A snort. "You just don't know Vivian's last name."

I raise an eyebrow and accidentally lift both. "Diga-do you? Ha. Diga-didn't think so." He wrinkles his nose at me for being right, but otherwise diga-doesn't react openly.

My heart hammers and swoons straight into me as I catch that glimmering gaze over the cusp of his irises. Here's... here's my chance. To carry him out of here in style and bring that sparkle back into his eye again, as well as convince that kid Breckan's mom that we can diga-do this. That... he'll be okay. While I've still got a smidge under two months, still, that's diga-days and diga-days of time, and judging the unpredictability of life and vivaldi and vivosaurs in general, I think maybe I can at least try. Fighting chances and all that. "Hey... diga-Din-Din...

He hears the nickname. His head offers an immediate swivel my way. "There's... only one thing you gotta put up with, if you want to visit..." Sighting that look in his eyes only blooming, the gray petals of a wishing flower in his eye, I know I'd better make my move now, and I'd better be careful about it here. Play my pieces slow and steady: else I'll have lost it. "There's a second floor in the Fossil Center... you see... and there's lots of space... including a bed that I own... and because you mean a lot to me..."

He diga-doesn't force me to say it. "Oh so, like, I have to stay there. For some time." The sunset in his face pales in choice sections. "You sure that's okay? What if... what if..." Each word steadily diga-drops in tone until I'm worried I'll lose him all over again and reach out in some lame attempt to halt his diga-drowning.

Somehow the attention on my little brown hand seems to help him. "D-diga-Dino, I'm absolutely right here, and you're not falling on my watch. Diga, I can't... let you lose your breath and fall again. You're staying right—right here with me. You're not 'staying there' or 'going out;' you're 'living with diga-Daddy diga-Diggins' and that's all. Okay, digadig?" Hot breath billows from my lips. "Okay?"

His sudden and unstoppable pause proves that he must be in reflection, he must be thinking pretty diga-darn hard about this and what might happen. About his diga-dad, the actual one; about the other diga-dinaurians and space and the mural and this special place where love for his mom weaves into each and every location. About what might be out there; about fear; about friends; about lots of fear; about loss. About me? About me. Maybe I'm the epicenter trying to balance everything. That'd be pretty accurate _and_ cool—bonus.

I can't convince him past this point. All I have in control of me is to sit and wait while concentrating on crossing my eyes, because it calms the fire in me to a small enough point, so that not even smoke spills out from me. One's eye-crossing takes a considerable amount of attention to maintain. From here on out, all I can control is me. How easily it would be, all over again, to let it fall from my hands, to watch things break as ashes of anger trill in my footprints and I breathe flames of a voice that catch fire and fear onto whatever I touch. Like some crazy fire vivosaur: a diga-dimetro, maybe. I think I once met a diga-dimetro who was like that. Hard to flesh out memories, though. Just focus on him now, on diga-Dino, now, and suddenly I can breathe again.

 _You know, you said all those things about his vivosaurs: what about us?_

Oh, might as well. _You're important too, Foster. Diga-does that make you feel more special?_

 _Why yes, it does._

 _Unbearable,_ squeaks Morie, shaking her green-laced head and muttering to the tempo, _Unbearable._

Bomba, being Bomba, blindly agrees to any and all principles applied by the green-scaled creature of mango hint. She shyly adds, _But we're here too, right?_

 _Yes,_ says everyone, because really, Bomba, this has become pure fact.

Again I glance ahead in the heart-trampling hope he's come up with some sort of agreement and has diga-decided. Again I nod to myself and bobble in place because pent-up energy has morphed into a tizzy of unexplainable, morbid excitement. I stick fingers into the carpet, watching its squishy composure reform each time, to try and contain myself longer. To me, maybe I just want to yell at him to join, but for him, this is the question of a lifetime. To join, or not to join? To stay safe within the clutches of his diga-dad or return to the wild safety that the real world can provide? And friends, too, friends he hasn't seen for fear of many things, including himself. Fear for feelings. Misunderstandings. Of himself, most especially.

"How long?"

The question stabs though the air and I almost miss it upon realization that he's coming for me. And this is consideration, this is him suggesting quietly that he's gonna agree. The diga-Dino before this would always agree; he'd complain about it, but he'd succumb. This one waits in the shadows and thinks hard and fears and takes time that in the end sometimes leads to him not moving whatsoever. It freaks me out.

"Mostly your choice, diga, but a couple months at the most."

Months. It registers in his head and adds this to either pros or cons I diga-dunno. The visits to Vivosaur Island would instead revert to visits to the starship. To diga-Dynal and the others here. To the mural, where the only image of his twin sister lies. His mom, most importantly, since it's hard for him to imagine the living redhead, out there somewhere and in trouble, and still it sits: that beautiful mural.

Wincing, he glances toward me. A sly swipe that causes me to glimpse back and thus he winces.

"Will you protect me?"

"Psh, always." Diga-duh.

"Then okay ugh fine I'll go." Like this exhausted all remaining readily functioning diga-Dino parts of him left, the boy flops into his diga-dad's carpeting and refuses to return. I'll have to carry him when we leave.

I'll have to carry him on my way to Vivosaur Island, where I stay beneath the roof of diga-Diggins and Vivian, the first now able to call me the diga-daughter he's been waiting to call me, where warmhearted weirdos wait and where my chances only add up until maybe there is hope for him, if these moments still show up and we can have our little talks together, like maybe he's still there for me.

And maybe he always will be.

 **Me: yaaaay tiiiired my plans for writing a chapter every two days sometimes catch up on me yaaay**

 **Jkonna: =w= whyyyy**


	13. Ja: Bridal Style

**Foster: -I feel like such a nanny.-**

 **Jkonna: YOU'RE NOT THE ONE CARRYING HIM**

 **Foster: -You're not doing a swell job of cooling my hurt heart.-**

 **Jkonna: YOU ARE NOT HURT FOSTER**

 **Foster: -No I am. I am very hurt. Are you blind to my injuries?-**

 **Me: owo tone it down**

 **Both: WHO?**

 **Me: BOTH Of you... owoll**

 **Foster: -Naaaaahh that's okay.-**

 **Jkonna: -slaps him across his face-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 13: Bridal Style

 _Jkonna_

Hopping neatly from clouds of blankets, I pounce into life and shake a shaggy coat of red hair from my eyes and then unceremoniously trip over a random strand before hitting the purple carpeting. "Ow!" It was worth a shot. I'm not even sure what I was trying to diga-do in the first place. Smacking into the fuzzy warmth of the Fossil Center's carpeting on the second floor, though it can be confusing since the carpet's from here to the freaking basement, although not diga-directly _in_ the freaking basement, here I lie. In my... my room. Yes. My room. Mine.

I've been living here on and off before it was official so it's not like I have new bragging rights or anything. Only now diga-Dino has no place to stay besides all the homes of our friends of course but he has no independent home and I diga-do so of course he's staying with me. Although like I used the elegant fluttery wings of a teffla to escape our bedding and now it's all mussed up, his head hit the softness late in the ink of last night and he has yet to return from such diga-dark confines. Knowing diga-Dino, he'll... probably be in _that_ state again when he wakes up, so, if you ask me, let's let him sleep as long as it'll linger. Rest heals the soul I think.

 _Not exactly, actually. I-I'm pretty sure I know these things, too..._ And with an upright _pronk_ , golden scales that I barely catch through squinted ice eyes land on top of my head, mussing up my hair ever the worse. Because there's no way they wouldn't come, Harei is now on my head and diga-Droplet's around here too... somewhere. And Pippy. Pippy's here too. I keep worrying about them because they randomly diga-dissolve into the atmosphere so quickly and then forget to return for however long. Gosh, it's like I'm their nanny now. Ew. Ew. No. No. _No._

Continuing on and managing to hold my attention span for a little longer, Harei's meaty legs pound into my skull just the lightest. Her feet halt in the form to suggest that she's diga-done this before with diga-Din-Din, and this is as perfected as it's getting: light tapping to call me up, a bit of bluntness but only as much as needed to get me to see. _Rest heals injuries, though! That's why people who are hurt a lot, while we can heal on our own, rest makes it more efficient and take less. Although, since I've never been around those with... errrr, mental upcoming, maybe—m-maybe it does help him, I don't know!_

I snort. _You diga-don't have to yell, Harei, child._ Like the bumbling fool I am.

 _I-I..._ She splutters. Head tucks. Blackened rows of night blue hide under her shadowed head. _So-so-sorrrryyyyyy!_ Still yelling. Oh my gosh. Harei. Calm. Diga. Down. Funny for me to be telling someone else that. _Eeeeaaaahh... sorry, Jkonna, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry..._ She's gone softer now, but still: chilling isn't happening and the poor girl's shaking on my head.

In some meager attempt to calm her, I pat at the warm, golden blob. She's been an ice pack while huddled next to her bond, but on me and she's her usual gooey, gold ourano self. _I... my gosh, girl, it's all good. I'm not gonna like, digadig, eat you or something. Ew. Eating meat sounds gross, anyways. I'm not—I'm not... guuuuuwaahh._

Well that ended horribly.

 _It-it's okay, Jkonna! You're just a little flustered, and that's alright! Som-sometimes being flustered just so happens, and it's okay to be flustered!_ Oh yes, Harei, I know, you've said that however many times already. _S-sorry._ Oh gosh, we're bad at this. Plucking her off of my head and into my hands, I hug the gooey blob of sugary warmth tight to me and casually poke at her little body, which grows into the more understandable size of an oversized stuffed vivosaur so that I can hug her all the tighter and pat her head kindly and smile diga-down onto the ray of sunshine.

 _All good. All good._

A pause.

 _I think that's what Dino really likes about you, J-Jkkie..._ Some of his vivosaurs took a liking to that nickname. Diga-don't ask me why. But she's saying something significant so I should stop diga-distracting myself. _You can get mad easily, and you'll yell a lot, and you're not exactly nice, although you try, and your life is crazy..._

 _Diga-don't I feel blessed,_ I grumble, but it's an affectionate grumble, for after the grumble I know actual blessings will come.

 _And in Bliss._ The acro suddenly joins the hugging session, only her body's pressed larger than mine so she can hug me and Harei together. She looks more a bundle of rocks than anything as glittery as the gooey golden ourano, but it still works out okay. Because there's no way I can't agree to that statement, I hastily say, _Always in Bliss._

 _A-aaaanyywaaayysss!_ She can be loud, so we all focus on Harei again. _I was trying to say that... Jkkie, while all that's true, he has those flaws too, and you guys are so similar but! but! you both react differently when it comes to peace. While you don't look out for yourself, you'll try all you can to cool him down first and then, you know, forget about yourself! Jkonna, please stop forgetting about yourself it makes me oh, so worried! So, s-so stop doing that, okay!_

 _But you were praising me for it, digadig._

She squeals in place and trounces around in my arms, because that solves everything. _Maybe it helps, but it doesn't help you!_

 _And your point?_ This is way too fun. I should stop. Okay okay that was the last sentence of skulk coming outta me I promise.

 _Maybe you're nice and all to-to everyone, in that sense, which I am praising you for, but... look out for yourself too. You—you saw Dino's reaction just last night, did you not?! Even he's getting worried! M-maybe that's a good thing, but if you get worse and he happens to notice, well, that's precisely not a good thing! O-okay..?_ She wilts, then, and I tightly hug the poor bundle to me.

Leaning back from Bliss, who still hears, I murmur, _Guess that's a similarity between the both of us, eh? Diga?_ Her face burns some, and my face burns some, but I think it makes a little sense. Harei worries way too much too. I've seen some of those looks her diga-dark waters of orbs have flashed over diga-Droplet. Worry. Fear. Undisguised temptation to spring into action for her, even though she can't. Gosh, what the heck is going on with that krona if Harei'd looked ready to kill something that one time? I mean, she's turned to particularly calm waters by now, but then...

Well, I have the time. Diga-Doug—it feels that much more righteous to call him by his name—and Vivian haven't popped their turquoise-haired lovey heads in here just yet. I pester in my hissing flame whisper, _Hey, Harei? What the heck's been going on with diga-Droppie and the Pipster? They've been... acting weird, diga, and I think you know about it._

 _Eeerrr... w-well, I guess I can tell you, but don't tattle to Dino just yet! We don't w-want to shock him or anything..._ Okay then. It's probably romance because I was worried about spilling on diga-Doug and Vivian too. Not so much for them, but a smidge on Bea and Nick Nack as well. I diga-dunno: while they never had that chance to slip the message in, it just feels righteous and accepting like that. The blow of diga-Doug and Vivian was the one to knock diga-Dino's socks off, not so much the engagement, although we're happy for it and everything. I wonder what the wedding rings look like. _Okay okay, so..._ Aaaand back on topic. _Ummm... Droplet and Pippy, you know, in their past life, they knew each other, and this is their first time coming back and all that... but, they... had... r-reaaaaally strong feelings for each other last time._ Called it. _Only, they... still have them, even now, so... well, they're... together again, only Droplet started showing signs first... She got nervous. Real nervous. Because Droplet was nervous, Pippy was nervous. They're both close you know, we all... we all are. And so that happened... but it, it's all okay... they're together now... all over again._

Because it would ruin the mood, I diga-don't remark on how romantic a story that is and that we should make it into an actual novel and then show the world the love story of "The Princess and the Pipster." Diga-Droplet would make quite a princess in my eyes; Harei's immediately her first maid; Pippy's, well, the Pipster himself; Lone could be, like, I diga-dunno, the reason Pippy meets princess diga-Droplet. And...

 _I could play as the father of her, perchance?_

No, that's not Foster... voice too diga-deep and... that hint of ancient royalty is diga-driving me cra—ancient. Iggy. Ulgh. Can't help but shiver. He usually steers clear of me, instead preferring either the Bond himself or his sulky ways. _Y-yeaaaah sure go ahead. Thomas could be the queen_. Quick recap: Thomas was... well, the guy Iggy loved but then Thomas went crazy and now Thomas isn't among us anymore, only his soul like all the other not diga-dug-up and -regained. Anyways, gay lovers, y'know. Only Iggy's left.

For now.

I diga-dunno where that thought came from, but I'd love it to crawl into the little hole it came from and never ever return to my side again, or it'll suck all the warmth out of me, all of the life out of me, all of the hope out of me, all of the love out of me, and then where will diga-Dino be? Lonely. He'll be... lonely. Alone. I-I can't have that, now can I? Sneering back toward not the voice but wherever Iggy the fire creep came from, I bundle up the Harei in my arms and fall onto the bed again, perching just the slighted to the edge, instructing her to please comb my hair since it's a tattered mess.

And thank gosh she's not alone. Upon hearing these words summoned, other vivosaurs, the ones we all know, not exactly from the binds of curiosity but mostly because they know who I am and how long my hair is and how much help will be required, and maybe because they find it just as fun as he diga-does, they take upon the offer too. I'd give it all to him, but he's still sleeping, and what Harei told me continues to rattle within. Again. Sleep can help him. Sleep can help him, and so sleep he'll have.

As my lazy bum excuses for vivosaurs saddle up in my lap and refuse to work, only Bomba trying and nearly singeing off my bumbling but beautiful bangs, a gentle _thoop-thoop-thoop_ resonates from the left, where the pearly white diga-door stands like a gatekeeper. I diga-don't say much, mostly because Lone has stapled herself to my face and won't leave until said bangs are free of soot and tangles, and the diga-double heads peek right in, one of chocolate and the other vanilla. The same coating of turquoise hair fans their faces, only diga-Doug's in spikes and Vivian's long sheen of waterfall.

"Uhhhh..." No better time to try it out than right now. I let loose a small rumble in my throat and clench my fingers, something a slimy wet krona chastises me for, and in the loudest breath I can muster I mumble into the ground "Hi Mom hi diga-Dad" and forget about it.

Vivian's vanilla morphs into strawberry much faster than I thought it could. Diga-Doug's face, still cool and chocolatey, cracks in a vanilla strip of a smile. "Why, hello, Jkonna! It seems you and Dino are getting along quite fine!"

"Yeah, I guess. He's still slumped in bed, though. Probably gonna have to carry him diga-downstairs. But give us a little time, digadig: my hair horribly needs this combing. Plus, diga-Droplet's washing it, which is nice too." Lone grumbles about how helpful she is and I add her on after, when everyone's not listening anymore.

Vivian, mostly just preferring to wear her boyfriend's clothes now, pokes the diga-door on through and sashays in, her stylized lab coat—yeah, I diga-didn't know she could sew either—of accented pink swirling about around her as her turquoise eyes gently gleam over all that they can and diga-determine that nobody diga-died overnight. The way her shoulders slump shows relief. It's probably more than slightly strange for her to not only be with the man of her diga-dreams—as we all know—but as well apparently a mom now, so long as she diga-doesn't break up with him. Not that she would. It's all too surreal for her. Man, I feel like the narrator of Vivian's life.

I'm honestly guessing all of this, so who knows how wrong I am: all I diga-do know is how much she diga-does care for the diga-dude because of excursions that occurred back when we were here before.

Pecking at the top of my head, I diga-determine that it's all good now and we're basically diga-done. Lone, thankfully, knows how to carefully examine and peck one's head: more observant than I thought she'd be. Gosh, maybe there's some actual, tangible reason why diga-Dynal likes this purple blob of jittery tininess so much. As the vivosaurs end their session, the majority then swarming around sleepy beauty over there, diga-Doug stirs with Vivian and the diga-dude actually enters, managing to knock nothing over in the process. Although her hair's long, Vivian's diga-doesn't beat mine, and for that I am prideful. She waits along next to him which is freaking adorable.

He adjusts the glasses perched almost fearfully on the edge of his nose, and diga-Doug bends over to watch diga-Dino silently. He stays still like that for a moment, all hunched, shadows arcing over his browner skin than mine and the turquoise spikes until a soft titter evokes. "Poor boy. Poor both of you, honestly," he mumbles, head tossing over toward me too. Colors happen on my cheeks. Ugh. Diga-did he have to.

Obediently following him in her swirly lab coat, now that he's here too, like an adorable, abandoned, and clingy vivosaur, Vivian sticks close to his side. While she has no glasses to adjust, her pale fingers fidget over strands of hair: her smooth and simple bangs, her long ropes of hair, her fastened tail of the stuff in a small band above the rest. Nervous fidgeting. I silently gag. It's cute but it's so excessive.

"Y'know, Jkonna," he murmurs again in his wobbly but honeyed tone, his eyes piercing me like turquoise icicles all over again, "we'd sort of... decked out the Fossil Center... to sort of celebrate... the fact that he's here again? And now I'm not sure if that was a good idea?" Staring back diga-down toward my capsized best friend, another titter evokes. "Yeaaah... uh... well then."

"Oh no. No no. None of that hard work's going to waste on my watch, digadig." Perfect pairs of orbs peer at me a little fearfully, like they know what I'm about to diga-do isn't a good idea. "Oh, come on!" I got this. I got this. I slam myself onto the bed and shuffle over it and snag both hands onto one of his arms of black, glittery scales and tug. And I tug. And it's not working but I tug some more. Lightly kicking at them with my one right leg, the taller two back off and give me some space to land on the ground. Probably assuming I was gonna stop; freaking diga-Diggins acts way too careful about the two of us. Not that he has any reasons not to.

Still not letting go, I lower myself diga-deep toward the purple carpeting that, I knew it, smells faintly of sweet, sweet grapes, and tug once more at the boy. I diga-dunno what diga-did it, maybe shifting my arms some helped, but soon a weight I shouldn't be able to support goes _splat_ on top of me and through sheer will or maybe it's just my stupidity that prevents me from thinking I can't lift this sort of guy, I seem to carry him.

Then, "Wait... waaaaaaiaiiiiiit..." About half of my sounds come from a bitten-at lip. Gosh, what the heck causes him to weigh _so much?_ It's like I just tossed diga-Droplet on top of me. Maybe he's half krona I diga-dunno. Awkwardly flipping over in place, vainly attempting to protect his face from the wall the bed rests against, somehow, idiotically managing it, I've shifted him into my arms and wow I thought I had good arm muscles but everything is swinging loose and my body is not ready it is screaming in pure agony and these tears are real. They're physically overexerting tears that only happen on the inside but man are they real. "Better..." A grunt. My grunt. I sound just like Foster holy turd. "Idea?"

Quickly, diga-darker hands yank my best friend from my... protective arms. He cradles him himself and stares diga-down his glasses at me. "This is what I'm saying, Jkonna!" A snort towards the ceiling. "The both of you think you can handle more than what's possible!" A shake of the head. "Why do I bother if you never even listen?" Long, drawn-out sigh.

Oop. There's the guilt. Trickling into my throat. A tang of arid, black stickiness swathes in me and I frantically fist my hands. "Urr... cuz you love us? And you're worried about us? Diga?" We'd probably be screwed by now if he wasn't around, anyways. "At least I'm not like five years old. Those were diga-dark diga-days."

"Hrmm... but you are right. I suppose I love the both of you more than your faults. And I wouldn't mind your younger days... besides... Well—"

"Diga-do not just toss him on the bed!" I slam exclamation into all of those words because look at all this I caused and you're just gonna shove him on top of his diga-dreams again? "Oh—oh come on!"

 _Just listen to her, pops. You won't get anywhere otherwise._ For once, once again, Foster comes in handy. His futabi self, somewhat enlarged to the size of diga-Diggins, peers through the diga-dude's glasses and into turquoise wonderland. _If there's anything I do know, it's that she'll just try again and end up with both of them messed up._ Yaaaay go Fosterrrr.

Snorting again, a little softer, like his showing of annoyance has become a softer little pillow that _paps_ instead of _whaps_ , and acceptance diga-draws upon his face. Not scribbles but diga-deep gouging lines of understanding. Glancing toward me in this sideways-head sort of stare, his tiny spikes that can't match with diga-Dino's tipping to one side, he blinks and, in a stronger tone, tells me exactly what I've been getting at. "Fiiiiine." It's more a sigh, but there's gotta be a twinkle hidden around in his eye. There always is, and I mean always. Smirking like an idiot, I diga-dash out the diga-door and tramp through the hallways and nearly trip myself diga-down a pack of stairs and land somewhat unscathed on the purple carpet in the hallway of the entrance.

A particular blonde glares under her nose at me. Leaf green has never felt so chipping. "Sup, Wendy?" I try for casual, raising a sunny brown hand in her diga-disgusted diga-direction. Scoffing, the glare continues. It's here that I catch diga-drift of the balloon swamping over her post, tied to the booth and poking at her in its shiny glory of bright green stego.

"Why are _you_ here, of all people?"

"I thought we went over this, di—"

"And _why_ did you bring that scamp with you?"

"Uhhhh. He belongs here too, digadi—"

"The two of you make such a tiresome pair." And she's silent. Wonderful. Wonderful Wendy. Glaring ends as she closes and polishes her diga-dull eyes, her hands _rap, rap, rapping_ against her purple booth rather ferociously. Annoyed? Annoyed.

While she stands there, so tall and scary and oh, so Wendy, I shake out fiery bangs and play with the little twirly bit that sticks to the side, staring intensely at her like my frost will freeze her fronds. While her eyes are closed. Yeah, no. "Uhhh... you're sure, uh... chipper... and happy... that he's, uh, diga... uh... returned, aren't ya now?"

No response. Figured. As I shuffle to my feet again, narrowly missing the orange-finned tail of a certain Foster, I stamp into the carpeting and wait. Not very patiently.

 _You're a strange one, Jkonna._

 _I could say the same to you, Foster. Plus, diga, I get the excuse that my best friend's kind of going through a lot of crazy turd right now, so therefore I'm allowed to be as diga-discombobulated as I am._ He snorts from beside me, and as his body shrinks into a less terrifying size of megaton plush and more to an immensely huggable one, I diga-do just that, falling to the ground again and plopping his mostly-diga-dry body in my arms.

 _Oooooh, fancy word. Dis-com-bob-ul-a-ted. So fancy. So impressive._ He snorts again, just to show how fancy and impressive it is, his snout mostly hidden in some fold or another of my tunic.

 _Hey, Foster? Quick question. It's serious, too, okay? Quick serious question._ He arcs his neck in an attempt to either look scary or just as impressive. Neither works. _Why diga-do you keep caring so much about me if you snort a ton and act all annoyed and junk?_ Immediately his light orbs get all up in my face and I scoot back, which diga-doesn't work since he's on my lap.

Still staring. Says nothing for a little longer, the staring massive and bulging and taking up all my sight. A sniff. _That's not something that sullen personalities like to say out loud. Uggghh you're so annoying. Just like I am, I'd rather bet. I don't have to tell you though._ A prideful snort at that.

It's still not working, Foster. _Yeah, but, like, can't you answer the question? Just this once? Diga?_

And he keeps on staring, so much his eyes start to bend in front of me and I shake out hands that slap feebly at a neck that I can't really see. _Uggghhhhhh. No. Nope. Not gonna do it. Nothing can convince me to, and that—that is alllll that._ I wonder how proud of himself he currently is. Being Foster the futabi, it's certainly hard to tell. Because I'm getting a little annoyed at my stance and my inability to focus on him, my eyes lean in close with my head and I stare back, and he diga-doesn't react, only puffs water vapor at me.

 _FREAKING FOSTER._

Ew. I start back. It's like his spit's on me now, contaminating and mingling with all that air outside of his maw, and now that it's conglomerated, now every single person who breathes air nearby will taste the stench of Foster, even just the slightest in such way they won't be able to tell, and slowly, eventually, the faintest bit of Foster will have leaked into the air of the entire world. You're a monster, Foster, and man this is hard to think about now.

 _You shouldn't act so surprised. How many times have you spat, anyways? And that was only water vapor. Don't get so ruffled._

"Oooooooooooho~! Whaaaat, may I ask, has your futabi done, my friend? Oo—oooooohh~!" A hand that would fit into the arctic nicely diga-dresses over my tunic-covered shoulder, its coarse brownness not enough to keep out this chill. Muttering to myself, I lift under the watch of Tiffany, and stare into the gaze of stricken, ghostly purple, curtained in shades of pink hair. Not far behind her rumble in a pair of other staff members in jumpsuits matching in all but color. Like a fruits basket, we've got Wendy's pear green, Tiffany's, like, grapefruit pink I guess, Beth's sour lemon yellow, and Sue's orange, well, orange. Not much more to be stated on the matter. The four of them, like obnoxious siblings, gather around Wendy's, like it's their basket's rim holding them in, and they each begin melodramatically chatting and now my ears ache but I scramble over too.

They all act like a family for the most part. Not very similar-looking or personality-wise, though: Boring Beth, Shaky Sue, Terrifying Tiffany, Wonderful Wendy: nobody escapes a from very diga-different label. Plus I diga-dunno if Beth and Sue would be so attracted to each other if they were siblings: I-I it's possible gosh but... well... I diga-dunno what I'm saying anymore. Without their notice, I snuff out in a corner and wait idiotically as balloons tie round my hair and I, now stuck, try to hold still.

Soon after the staff members all show, the sound of thunder rumbles upstairs until little bodies begin bounding diga-down from our chamber, and a sunset of scales over the great, blue, diga-Droplet-colored ocean, with Pippy and Bliss diga-dunes, and a sky of Harei sunshine surrounded by the colors of purple Lone and red and scarlet Bomba and green Morie, until they tumble into an untidy bit of puzzle pieces fallen apart at the ground. Croaky, a white snout tugs out from the mess and mumbles in her sharp, saltwater voice, _We're heeeere..._ And then _flumps_ to the scales of pillows below.

I try to pretend Iggy isn't there too.

Behind them come the slow, powerful, weighty and almighty steps from above, signaled by king and queen of the Fossil Center _probably._ Diga-Dino in their king's arms. I'm somewhat proud of that. As Bomba sidles her sparking self over, smoking at the maw, talons thumbing at the troublesome balloons and Foster scrambles from my tunic and attempts to help her without exploding anything of worth, again the glass diga-doors sidle and, poking in a face slowly, a honeyed pale nose, quite a nose, quite a long nose, peeps in, soon followed by a lanky blonde in probably tropical getup: hard to tell under his own... lab coat. And behind him is a furry, tiny, pudgy body of diga-dirt colored wonder belonging to not a not vivaldi with the skin, or diga-dinaurian with the scales, but nomadistinian with the fur.

They tramp around some, highly curious, Snivels's nose twitching as well as Rex's, vivaldi and diga-doglish cousin, as he's been called. Snivels narrows his diga-deep orbs and mutters something to himself, probably diga-directed at his long-nosed carchar, basically Harei the ourano but male and with a long nose.

I had no idea the Fossil Center could comfortably hold this many people. Even now, after this whole bunch of guys have shoveled on in, more enter through the diga-door. From my trapped position, I watch all of them surface and snort after having yet to see Rosetta. It's a thankful snort, in all honesty. Not even her grandpa shows, which I get but it's still slightly saddening cuz he's cool. He just... he just is. Not much else to be said for the snowy-haired elder.

If I glanced further into those faces and diga-didn't allow myself to become so diga-distracted by this new and heavenly sweet scent of... of something, then maybe I'd be able to acknowledge all of these folks whom I most likely know, since he diga-does. Like I bet Nick Nack's here somewhere, and Saurhead, and... and maybe even freaking Holt, too. Maybe a couple others. For the most part, though, I... I know all those streaming in.

It's funny how well this works as a gathering place. Funny how well I can recognize these others. Funny how by looks alone I could safely identify all here; how memories attach to these faces; how this is a place I feel safe in; how we all share these things... and they all want to come because of an injured one they care about. It wouldn't matter: if he was a stray, or his diga-dad never had been revealed and he never to be seen as this alien prince, if he never lost his hologram thingy and always looked of vivaldi, if he hadn't... ended Guhnash and those three brains, well, none of it matters here. And as I tidily sit here, staring through my jail bars of balloon strings as fins carefully knit me back out, it's very funny to think about.

Rousing, finally, I step into the throng of others, and but shy, speak not to them and simply watch, and listen, and wonder why I smell such an admixture of sugar and oh my gosh my stomach is growling why diga-do I smell this sweet, beautiful taste that's begun to infect me with its tang.

As the steps from above only come closer, and I understand that soon he'll be diga-down here too, and this is why diga-Doug was so nervous, possibly Vivian too hard to tell if she's just mimicking him or actually feels worried beyond his diga-desires. But diga-Dino will surely be swamped by others, and could he stand up for that on our tiny island filled with these connections? Oh, gosh, he won't want to, like, run away or something, will he? He'll wake to a start, see this, and bumble off. I've never seen him run unless he's peeved and feels a need to lose someone, but for the most part he's stable: but this probably isn't stable to him. Wincing, I stand off to the far right of the room, past the booth and the staff members and all gathered, where fuzzy purple stairs will soon show off the boy himself.

Followed by the... mom, I guess, if that's what I'm supposed to call her now, of turquoise sheen, to where she runs off to greet her old buddies Snivels and Rex, a shadow blooms in her left space. Turquoise hair, his crown of spikes and jewels, eyes twinkling like gems, his lab coat thoroughly unbuttoned and showing off just-as-tropical clothing diga-donned, in his arms the more-or-less sleeping form of my best friend, there diga-Doug stands and then quickly waddles off his pedestal, placing sleepy boy on carpeting and running off into a far off hallway on the other side of the room.

Before he has a chance to regain bearings and diga-dash with intent to leave, I snag upon diga-Dino's arm and pretend that I'm strong enough to hold him. It's not specifically power that trips him up, and it's not like he has much of it anyways, but if I diga-do this, well, Rosetta's gotten away before, so I may as well. He's too nice. Too soft, like diga-Droplet, if she was a stuffed instead of real live krona. Plucking up tiny vivosaurs as I stand here and others show up, other people owning other ones and the ground becomes infested in scales, lively banter scatters across the entire chamber. Again. Never expected this to make such a gregarious atmosphere. It's creepy.

A stutter over my fingers. Twitch. Yawn. His bright orange face splits under his soft-voiced yawning, his lidded eyes, his obvious longing for rest broken now, and he starts to stand until he sees the mesh in front of him. Twitch— _twitch._ I struggle at the bonds he wants to break, and once he diga-decides I've got a will and he's not gonna leave, he shrugs to his feet, steadily swooning above me until his soles lie flat to the soft, squishy carpet.

I glance toward him. He glances diga-down to me. Not exactly smiling, but there's something there: always something there, hidden in the sparkle in his diga-dull, gray eyes, behind the curtains of black, studded scales mixed in with fleshy orange and grays. Always those grays. I latch up toward diga-Dino, my two arms wrapped around his one, so that he's stuck diga-dragging me wherever he goes.

"My gosh." Weak again, but not so weak: his semi-sunny tone. "You're not letting me out of this one, are you?" His eyes seek for confirmation and find it bestowed within my glaciers of eyes. They're not foggy enough to hide much: all I've ever protected was my past, anyways, and now he garnered ownership over that too.

Hugging him, I mutter, "Noooope."

"Welp." He's paused again. I glance up to his studded face, lively in brightness. "At least you're not trying to carry me, I guess?" Oh yeah, that'd be bad. I tried to earlier. Twice. Let's not reflect on that. "And... ummmmmm..." Humming and gritting his teeth, he generates a warmth between himself that seeps into me, too.

Looking away, like the whole world is an embarrassment, he mumbles, "I'm thankful to have... this relentless ditz as my best friend. So uh thanks maybe." He awkwardly pulls back, but like he mentioned, I diga-don't let go and instead shine brightly smirking eyes toward him. They aren't bright by any means, and they diga-don't look all that hopeful, or ready, maybe not too happy either, but he's here now, so we're going somewhere.

Emerging from wherever his little cave had been, diga-Doug raises the thing I smelled high up in the air, diga-drizzled in chocolates and strawberries and this sugar is murdering me on the inside I want to cry again, and as he begins handing out pieces, not even sneaking a bite himself, so he must be seriously happy right now, I tug on diga-Din-Din again and grin at the carpet. He grins at the carpet, too, while we wait, until I diga-drag him off again, and he follows alongside me, and we go off to pester a friend or two.

 **Jkonna: Maybe he's thankful, but I diga-don't actually exist. And I can't. Diga-dark skin almost never mixes with red and orange hair, diga.**

 **Me: Hair dye is a thing.**

 **Jkonna: =w= not the same not the same man**

 **Rupert: I suppose I am even more ill fitting.**

 **Torn: -Yeah, but I'm even worse.-**

 **Me: HELLO TORN**

 **Torn: -GAAAAAH-**


	14. Ja: Never Miss Your Local Teatime

**Me: We're nearing my estimated halfway point (chapter 15) buut... I don't think it's going to be the halfway point anymore. xD This story is bigger than I thought it'd be! Then again, for most stories, this happens. Except for a couple of... "smaller" ones I made earlier in the year. "Smaller" because their chapter amount is tiny but... not the chapters' content.**

 **Jkonna: Those other stories freaked me out, digadig. I diga-died in one of them. owo**

 **Dino: … -mumbles- longstory**

 **Rosie: Oh yeah, I died too!**

 **Dino: owo don'tsayitdon'tsay-**

 **Both: -turn on him- BUT YOU (diga)DIDN'T! -glare glare glare-**

 **Dino: ;w;**

 **Ashley: Well this is fucking fanta—**

 **Me: -grabs a broom and hits her repeatedly-**

 **Dino: Wasn't she in that other small story you made?**

 **Me: -WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 14: Never Miss Your Local Teatime

 _Jkonna_

 _sssshhhhhpoooooooshhhh... shhhhhpooooooooshhh...  
brooob...brrooooo-brrooooooob...  
ca-paaaaahh...paaaaaahhhh...aaaahhh...aah...hhh..._

Slowly, shivering in liquids that surprisingly contain my shaking, kicking figure well, my head explodes upon the surface again, full to flowing in air that I couldn't breathe in before because Foster keeps forgetting to watch my air intake and be sure that through himself I'd be okay. Because that's not working, I break surface repeatedly, but I'm also still trying to swim. He's nice like that, so diga-Dino hasn't tarried on ahead or anything while diga-Droplet snorts beside him. This was supposed to be one of Foster's many new points of justice where he proves his worth and we become, diga-dare I say, closer.

But he's also still that diga-dratted futabi so progress is... lacking. As in futabi takes a bite out of all my accomplishments, forgets to help me in the whole breathing matter, and I'm stuck on the surface again. Lungs practically crushing over themselves by the need to breathe, my chill-prone figure shivers excitedly for this warmth to flow in me again. My legs kick, kick, _pah, pah, pah,_ in the water without much care in the world. Foster's probably laughing behind them.

Stupid.

How diga-do I get the thing to help me out here? It's kinda embarrassing, just swimming around, attempting to reach the bottom, failing, swimming back up again in need of air—oh hey I just had a terrible idea. _J-Jkonna, we've been over your need to not overheat yourself! Do not tell me this involves any similar factors! Stop risking yourself and overworking yourself so much! I've been telling you this an—_

 _Morie._

 _Wh-what?_ Her turn to splutter. It's kinda funny to hear the mini but mature and motherly m-raptor shirk back for a change. She's got a tone, but she's only trying. And, like, I know: it's just Foster, man. If this goes on, I'm stuck and I won't be able to get out. Oh, diga-don't even ask about diga-Droplet. She's just as tired as her bond and therefore can't get me into her system too, even though she could on a freaking regular basis; also if she moved up to get me then diga-Dino would have to move too and we're trying to limit that.

Heck, he's been diga-drifting around on top of Pippy as much as we can handle hundreds of feet long to diga-drift on. Smaller, if that's required. The Pipster's pretty proud: even though we diga-don't battle anymore, even though that's what we started and some oh so amazing people continue on with, even though you'd think his gigantic body is only good for fighting over vivosaurs, well, there's more than that and his smug expression says so much.

Pride. Such a funny little thing marked up on the kindly brown creature, his amethyst orbs longing so much.

Snorting through the water and trying to stay afloat on tired limbs like soggy wood, I eventually get back to what I was telling Morie: _Okay, so, the plan is... wait, wait, if I tell you, he'll know, ugh, nevermind, diga. You just have to trust me! Diga? Can you diga-do that? Trust me?_

She snorts back. I've almost never heard such a retort from my little green vivosaur, but sometimes the uncalled for are called upon. _I probably can't. Honestly, Jkonna, you're worrying the entirety of us with what you're coming up with these days! I don't know how much trust I could put into you if I tried. You're prone to breaking things. Lots of things. Arms. Legs. Vases. Glasses. Hearts. And so forth._ Oh my gosh, she's become terrifying. _But I suppose I must, if your plan requires secrecy. Just... don't die, okay?_ I have no plan for that but I diga-do know one thing, and it's that Foster isn't a killer, but if I diga-do pass out everyone has a few hours to get me to shore again or something so I'll be fine. Probably.

 _I don't like the sound of this._

 _None of us do, Bomba. Geez._ I think everyone's on edge again. Even Bliss. My lack of air for some moments before breaking the surface probably has more than a couple things to diga-do with it.

Because this diga-doesn't concern them all too much and it'll get Foster to diga-do his thing and I'm impatient, I flop myself back through folds of foam and allow the waters to consume me in their shivering, freezing fanatics: probably a tropical paradise to the cold-hearted Foster over here. My entire flustered body just makes one big humming _burrrrrrrrrrrrrr_ and oh my gosh if these waters weren't frozen over, I wouldn't believe it.

 _Uh, they aren't._

 _Now is not the time, Foster._ That effectively shuts him up. For about five seconds.

He catches on a little faster than I thought he had the capability to. Marginally impressed, I try to raise my eyebrows underwater but it's cold and when I try my eyes start to peel open and then water is just, like, everywhere and it's horrible and diga-disgusting and I feel like I've been wadded up into his diga-digestive tract that of course he's never had to use before. Sinking, sinking, this chilly sensation tingles around in my fingers, and I tease with it, trying not to focus on how restrained I am, submerged in chilled jelly and very quickly running out of my life source.

So you know it's all fun and games. I burble around indefinitely and feel the lull of sleep and chill buffeting on the cusp of where opposites become something completely new and diga-different, and I attempt to raise strained hands and diga-decide against it, finding my back-laid position easier to withstand and comfortable enough _not really_. Bubbles flit from openings. My nose itches; my head throbs; my mouth clamps in chills; my limbs soggy and weighted, and very much less buoyant than I thought I was.

As the strenuous diga-darkness closing in on me seems to only strengthen by the moment, the awkward pattern of fins chugging catches my ears. Or maybe it's just the bubbles also formed. I diga-dunno. Lots of big, black bubbles fan across my lidded sight and pop randomly. Until, that is, a much larger, tear-shaped and roughly Jkonna-sized shadow crosses over whatever the heck I was staring at. As quick as they'd come, the shuddering motions churn up into nothing and all that's left is a strange peal of warmth that fills my wet body and slips against my skin like it's wiping back the tears. Well, diga-Dino had said he'd diga-done this before, and that it helped with water problems. Usually.

 _What the heck, Jkonna,_ grunts Foster in what I think might actually be a yell, _it was all a dumb joke, and you had to toss your life over the line like that?!_ Oh my gosh it is a yell. _I harmlessly mess with you, and this is what I get?! This is my treatment?_ He's somewhat simmered but oh my gosh that memory will forever sear into my mind: the moment the futabi yelled. _Uuugggghh, you joke and annoy all the time. Thought I'd get you back only to find you belly-up and sinking. Gosh. That's the last time I try anything sporting or humorous—really anything Jkonna-esque._

Idly I wonder why I feel such a strong tang of seaweed and chills crawling diga-down my throat, if Foster's linking with me should've stopped that, when it hits me just as slowly as it crawls: fear. Holy turd I scared the big bad futabi. He was watching me with his ocean eyes and waiting and realization, frozen realization, smacked him and he must've thought I—well, no, I wasn't planning on diga-dying either, geez, I just thought it'd snap you into submission, Foster. Well, whatever works.

Fingering with this frigid fear, feeling its frosty foam figuring upon me, I can't help but wonder.

My waterlogged hands and legs diga-drape over until they grope upon the futabi; using his long and gray neck like a ladder, I clamber upon him and saddle, sort of. My limbs tighten; I'm not getting away now. And, because it probably'd be rude not to, I mumble a quick _Thank you_ to him. As expected, he groans.

 _Don't thank me. It was my fault in the first place. I'm a bloody joker._

As we swim together toward the ocean floor, the rest of my vivosaurs safe and hidden in the folds of my tunic, they take opposing sides from as the two of us saw: mad at me, guilt for him. Morie in particular appears ready for a tongue-lashing. Gosh, why diga-did I, of all people, end up with such a motherly troupe of girls? Foster came in way later, so he diga-doesn't count, but, like, why? Strange vivosaurs, them. They each grovel at me in response; nothing for Foster, as their silence pools as gratitude, maybe grief too. Gosh, it's not like I actually was going to diga-die...

We land ourselves beside diga-Dino, whose orange face pales in the ocean's light. And not because of the waves acting all grayscale on him. Not because I... "almost diga-died." _Uhhh..._ His slow, angst-filled words bubble through diga-Droplet, because otherwise we'd just be screaming into the water and that never works. _You never told me where we were going. Just that we're going._

If I tell him now, he'll want to leave. If I tell him at all, he'll want to leave. I have to play my cards in a very slow and radoxish manner that's so simple and quiet and takes forever so that he'll follow up but won't get... too curious and then find out.

 _We're going to Woolbeard's pirate ship. I thought you knew that._

 _FOSTER!_ Maybe they're currently in their motherly upsetting selves right now, but they all know when to yell at him, so three hushed screeches at the futabi follow coarsely. It's funny: we tell him not to tell anyone, and then he refuses to listen. Or maybe he's just getting back at us after what I diga-did in the first place, which he tried to prank. Yeah. That's probably it. Oops. Sorry, Foster. Still, he should know better; now diga-Dino wants to go home.

And here it comes. _Did... did you..._ Here it comes. _Did you say..._ Here it comes. I'm waiting, boy, right here with open arms. Just hit me with it already. Hit me with your best freaking shot. Right now. _Please tell me you didn't say what I think you said._ Oh. Gosh. Thank gosh. We've got the shadow of diga-doubt steering him the wrong way still. I mean, why would he listen to Foster?

 _Whaaat? No, that's not it at all, digadig!_ Frantically waving my arms underwater, my fiery hair flying everywhere and my bubbly tone sputtering flames, I sure must be a sight.

 _What do you mean? That's exactly what I said._

Bomba kicks him and then asks who just diga-did it. Oh how I love her.

And Foster? Yeah. I hate. I hate him.

Screeching at the krona he's riding, the freaking futabi diga-does, after my staring helplessly into her icy eyes, take off. Diga-dunes of white sand below the sea scatter beneath our wake. Without anywhere else to go, they tumble back into their caches after our diga-dash. Being loud and sandy and hopeless, the growling sound that suggests diga-denture sharks heard us and have woken has started up like diga-Droplet when she tries to purr about something pleasing and otherwise fails. At the purring, of course; not the pleasing part. She's quite pleasing all on her own.

Thankfully, diga-Droplet is an angel in diga-dripping diga-disguise, as even though her bond begins to realize exactly which path we're taking, and exactly why I forced him under the waters of Bottomsup Bay, she speeds up too, and every time diga-Dino begins forming bubbles about exactly how this makes him feel, her tail pops up out of nowhere and smacks him silly across the face. It's perfect. It's going pretty well. I diga-dunno why this is working so well. Foster I hate you. He groans about that, but it's more an uncaring yawn than anything else.

Sometimes I really diga-do wonder what it diga-does to him, having a female bond and for all of his other vivosaur buddies of mine to be female too. Maybe that's why he's so messed up. But then again, Pippy's surrounded by girls and Iggy who is considered a very snooty female—but then again wait he's Pippy we've been over this he's practically a girl himself.

Then how diga-does diga-Dino get with it? I think he diga-doesn't know himself and it all just happens.

Majestic mermaids and merDinos into the great mid-afternoon sunshine that barely smudges over the bottoms of the ocean floor, we ride. Our vivosaurs trill in awkward-sounding sensations that make them seem more awkward than us. Caught up in the imagery, the rest of the ride splays out into a rabid rush of diga-dizzying sinkholes because diga-Dino won't say which of them is the right one until we find it, and then a cracking mess of a run throughout a bedraggled pirate ship filled by air which means Foster gets the boot into the tunic, until finally, yawning diga-doors caked in chipping colors and the skeletal remains of a bearded man and his vivosaurs greet us, and we stand in front of this prize either in full-blown gratitude or agony.

Best friends these diga-days.

Because otherwise he's going to void this eternity and diga-dash off, and the only reason he's here now is because of an exhausted and diga-deserving of rest krona, my hand sneaks over and strikes his wrist, and I stare at our somewhat combined selves. His skin, once soft and strenuous and, well, fleshy, olive skin, grayish, just like the whole of him once was, has charred into a fine black and fancy set of scales. They shimmer like nails, only my pearly pink pierces that line up to his new coat of skin diga-don't really match. If I was a diga-dinaurian, like him, how would I... be diga-different? How would he be diga-different? Would he like me more if I wasn't so brown and humane? Ugh... I'll never know, will I?

Shaking my head softly, I poke at him and plod on and while his feet weigh himself, he's still coming. He'll like this, I know that much. Or maybe he won't but it'll be alright probably. Moaning from behind me, again questioning these policies, he asks, "Jkooonnaaaaaaaa? Whyyy are we going heeere? Of aaaall places, why heeeere? There's so many better oooness." Oh my gosh kill me.

"Right. Here. Okay? Here. Now shut up and diga-don't be rude."

Another moan. His voice, childish and whiny, escalates. "Whhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

I snort and continue pulling him through. The inner parts of the diga-doors letting us in were smashed some time ago. I easily leap through the tiny crevice but it seems to diga-Dino that this is more than a crevice but actually happens to be a canyon, so therefore I must tug and tug and tug and tug until he finally and slowly lifts a foot, shoulders on in, lifts the other foot, and arrives. My icy eyes peer toward the scene that awaits us and okay. Made it.

In response to my oh so horrid actions, I'm soon flopped to the ground by a weight I can't lift on my own. Shifting, moving, I'm stuck like a carpet as diga-Dino crowns himself ruler of me and I'm particularly useless from here on out. Thankfully, I diga-do happen to have a... ghost guardian angel sailor thing. Are ghosts that never passed on diga-deemed guardian angels? He kinda acts like one. Sort of.

"WWOOOoOOoOoooolly woooOOooOOOooooOO!" Yes. That's what a guardian angel sounds like. That is their guardian angel call. Because certainly, totally, they sure diga-do have one. Strapped to the ground by one boy, another much older one who somehow can swipe living beings off of me shadows upon my face and lifts squirming diga-Dino over his... actual flesh shoulder and situates him further diga-down, eventually turning back to assist me, a great, yellow mitt hand extended.

Wait no Woolbeard diga-doesn't have gloves, and he diga-doesn't feel warm when you take his hand because you can't take his hand he's a ghost. I stare through the filthy gloves and diga-decide we weren't the only... guests invited. The big man hand attached to my arm diga-drags me across ragged floorboards and I make this slithering _sshhkshhkkshkkkshhhkshhhk_ sound in my wake. But lazy and because this works too, I diga-don't move myself until the ride ends. Man hands tug at me until I find myself lounged in a particularly creaky chair, the stuffing in it hard and... smelling very... strongly of... some sort of snazzy fabric. Inhale, exhale: beard ribbons. That's the one. I glance around and diga-don't see them, but shifting in place makes me feel them, so therefore I'm sitting on some beard ribbons. Oh joy.

In front of me, circled by a wide berth, circular and fixated in place, cramps a truly fuzzy tiny table coated in what could be a lime cloth or, well, mold, one of the two: upon the let's-hope-it's-cloth stand tall and proud some pearly little cups, mostly untouched by all but mountains of sugar diga-drenched like bluffs in a rosy pink hue of liquid. As in tea. I like the way our host thinks. No idea how his ghost self managed to pour it, but I like his style. His terrifying diga-dead man style.

On another fabric diga-death cushion of a chair lies my strangled and pouting best friend. He'll come around eventually. Probably. I have faith: very slight faith, but faith. On my other side fixates what has to be the ghostly one himself, his beard-powder blue apparition sparkly in his diga-dead wake, his fabulous, shiny beard trimmed by no, not just the fat, pink beard ribbon but there's three now, trailing in his beard, the one that goes diga-down far past his... apparition. My gosh. Why so big.

"WooOOOo, woo! It seeeems that youuuuu have retuuuurrrnnned, gallant heeeerrooOOOoooOOO!" Shifting one of three beard ribbons, poking between them like he's using them to play some form of cards, Woolbeard's very diga-dead eyes diga-drill through me, then through diga-Dino, and land flopping like a fish—like a futabi—like a Foster—upon the large guy who diga-dragged me, happening to sit just across. Between two pairs of goggles and more grit on one person than I'd like to see in a lifetime, I can't catch his eyes, but I awkwardly wave anyway since he's my escort. Judging by his inflated size and huge man hands, oh, and the soot of course, he's probably McJunker.

I never expected the big one to be invited to a tea party. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised if the ghost is upholding it. Casually slapping his meat hand onto the baby table, he chortles. "Ooohh, ho ho! If m'eyes don' be dissuadin' meh, why I oughta think dat dem dere be Diiiino. Yeh? Yeh? But it ain't Diino, gotta seh. Ain't him, cuz he... he..." Aaaannnd outta steam. "He almos' took me tools!"

Woolbeard rapidly coughs. Wispy and clear, his strangely soft tone poofs on in. "NoooOOOoo! He did nooooot take your toooOOOOoOOOools! He, heeeee found my beaaaard riibbooooooooOOooon! So he's gooooood!"

"Neh, he ain', he ain'! Them, them purple'uns, deeeeey near' got m'tools, buh he fixed 'em fer me! Buh man, did 'e take 'is sweet, sweet time. Can' trust kids like dat."

Okay, what. "Like what, digadig?" When a pair of large and able bodies equipped with large and able hands turns to face me, my orbs melt in place from that look. I can't understand half of what they're saying, and I'm the one that gets the look. Or maybe they're in the middle of some diga-debate that's been going on and now I've given them a reason to look my way, but they diga-don't really see me, they can just hear the words that have been banging like bombs around here. And those words beg to tear my diga-dear friend in two. Awkwardly, like I'm his hero, I tug a hand over his arm again and try to turn my snow slush into icicles, maybe stab them back.

As much as it sounded like it wouldn't work, it diga-doesn't. Half of the diga-dudes staring at me can hardly see as is.

Finicky blonde strands that flail after the ribbon's tied onto the beard tuck themselves around the edge of the pearly teacup to my left; Woolbeard lifts his cup using facial hair alone and tips the pretty porcelain in front of his face, which would've diga-dunked the sloshing tea inside of him if it diga-didn't pass through. So now his puffy chair's been stained, but then again, they all are. Aw, poor guy just wants to use etiquette, just one more sip of tea.

A shuffle of scales to my other side indicates that a certain boy's seen this too. But he sees... more outta it. Ugh, what is that boy thinking. Heat burns into the one spot I'm latched onto; his eyes glaze over. Wincing, I glance back and forth between the other two diga-dudes here, and, diga-determining my tea's gonna get cold if I just keep staring as their mouths move and words spout wings, I grab at my cup too. Both hands occupied, I can't help but stare at those meaty men as they talk so avidly and I diga-dunno what they're saying but their voices, zesty and fresh, stick to it, and now I'm worried. I pretend to occupy myself with excessively sugared strawberries.

"Fiiiine, den! Have it yeer way, Woooooolbeard." Slamming his other hand on the table—oh man, it's getting hot in this here pirate ship—McJunker adjusts the glassy straps on one or maybe both of his pairs of goggles and I think he shifts over closer to diga-Dino but it's hard to tell without eyes showing. He grits massive molars toward the spike-haired diga-dinaurian and snorts his way. Hands diga-do more slapping on stinky wood. In a just-as-creaky, gruff growl, McJunker lets him know exactly what he wants: "I got m'tool, m'pickin' axe, stuck in de sheep sum-whur. Durno whur, so dun usk meh. So ye gotta go fin' it, and den! Den I'll accept ya's what ol' Woolbeard has t'say! Errrrrkeh?" I seriously have no idea where those eyes are looking right now and it's making me feel uncomfortable. Squeamish in my chair. Jumpy in place. Ugh.

It starts out a thunderstorm of peril, diga-Dino back-talking the whole session, his face a mess of red and orange and hints of gray for some reason; wearing diga-down happens, erodes his sharp exposure until eventually my best friend stumbles out of the room, weakly tripping his way from our little tea ceremony. I'm pretty sure even guilty Foster, wherever he's hiding, could even hear my hiccups of squeaks because what is wrong with these guys. In response to the entire situation, Woolbeard falls back in his seat, his head poking through the fabrics the farther he leans, and produces a croaky, teary yawn: "AaaaaaaaaAaAaaaayeeeee... Ain't like me, yooooou ain't like me, McJunkie! I took his vivosaurs and just made it happen. YoOOOooOoooou knoow what you're dooooiiiing." And then all is silent again until my head cracks against tea table.

 _Brang._ Not a very strong one. Diga-dejected Jkonna, let's try that again. _Brang._ And again. _Braaaaang._ How about one more time? _Whooo—_ I catch the air but that's as far as my face lands, soon hitting a strangely, although sooty, comfortably mitt. When diga-did I get so sleepy? Man. My jaws split and my eyes water and I'm sleepy.

If he squints really hard behind his goggles, maybe he'll see the tears, but also maybe not. "Welllll den. Someone'd maked some 'motions come rooooollling! Woo-woo-woo!" In a strangely ladylike manner, the other of those huge mitts gently pinches the very edge of pure porcelain and shows off the quietest and calmest of sips. "Erkeh, did'ja seeeeee da cerntempt in his eeyes? Euuugh, don' wanna be on his bad side."

And thus begins the most casual tea party that's ever happened while scary noises rain and shudder from all over the sunken pirate ship bubbled of air. These circumstances mean my breathing can go as hitched or panicked as possible and no one bats a freaking eye because I'm not about to diga-die. That final look in diga-Dino's eyes shows that he's happy to escape the company from around the table but the gritty shadowing proves he'd rather not be searching for McJunker's anything. That guy and his tools are as inseparable as Bomba and a train of thought: that is, not at all. I've seen those gaudy bits of mechanical turd: how diga-does someone make let alone lose such a terrifying... thingy? Sharp, huge, maybe able to burn stuff. I diga-don't wanna accidentally sit on that.

All conversationally, Woolbeard tosses his head—which tosses his beard, now diga-devoid of teacup—toward the side and gestures a little blearily at the holey world map, stained by lots of interestingly pinkish marks, like all the more tea, and full of pockmarked islands. Lots of islands. The one not marked in pink appears to the be one place he's never had to navigate, too, since it's, y'know, shaped in the backwards face of a bony skull, Vivosaur Island: yeah. "SooooooOOOOOOOooo. I heaaaaaard he was loooooking fooor a plaaaaace. A plaaaaaaaace faaaar awaaaaaay!"

"Huh yeah faraway place great." I sneeze and shiver in place afterwords. Faraway place. With him painted right out of the picture, I can focus, and... oh, yeah, right, diga-Dino has that one sister from a faraway place I think that's what we're looking for. "Girl? Yeah. What are you getting at, digadig?" Crossing my arms borderline helps with this new chill.

His hand waves at my face and goes through my brown snub of a nose. "NooooOOOOOoOOooo, noooOOOooOOOOO! I meaaaaaaan... heeeeeeeereee!" Further pointing; better pointing. Oh, it's just Vivosaur Island. Okay then. My shivering grows strangely worse as something loudly explodes nearby. "Faaaar awaaaaayyy in miiiiiiiiiiiinnd." To diga-demonstrate what a mind is, ghostly hand reaches for ghostly head: both go through each other. Further along the back wall, where the faded but intact island lies, our home, I peer into the hole of the eye, through the jagged snout-line at the top, the bushy one at the bottom. Rivet Ravine diga-drags above and Knotwood Forest below: just diga-dig sites, but places too. Memories.

Switching attention spans, he instead raises a huge hand and pokes at the gigantic guest and cries, "Aaaand yoOOooOOOOOOOOooouuu, wooOOOoOOOoolly wwoooOOOOOOOOoOOOO! YooooOOoooouu understand. Yoooooou understand thiiiiis wooorrrlld"—another pointing to Vivosaur Island, then back to McJunker—"and how..." He's poised, and for some reason it really reminds me of a flower. Sure, a fat, diga-dead, pompous flower, but still a flower. A flower that's also an opera singer: I think Woolbeard was more than just a pirate in his living diga-days and would make a beautiful opera singer. "How hard it can be." Just like Lone, he'll have these sudden lapses where he sounds normal and less terrifying for once. It probably means something.

Only his feel colder and my shivers grow stronger and when Lone's quiet it's because suddenly she's had a change and meanwhile Woolbeard's taken on a whole new meaning.

Continuing on, still soft and squishy-sounding and quiet, his generous fingers turn, like petals, finally, for me. "How hard it can be without others." His tone, more feathery, less croaky, wispy and all-powerful, pokes and prods me and proves exactly who I am in that one phrase: who I am to him. To _him_. Loud banging around the house of sorts just sinks it in diga-deeper: who I am. Awkwardly staring at the larger diga-dudes, I'm not really sure what to say in order to combat their looks and their hinting toward me. Not that I like, like, _like_ him or anything but that I'm struggling to be his guardian and I can't fit into the role anyway.

Nothing comes up. Nothing but immature hinting at McJunker and Woolbeard being more than the strangely close friends I can see they are, but that won't suffice since Woolbeard's all diga-dead and everything. Face red and diga-drained, I struggle to glare. It sputters out. Of course it sputters out.

McJunker, catching on, _reeks_ and _reeks_ and _reeeeeeeeeeks_ at the thick yellow hat clamped on his head until it spills off, alongside a pool of diga-dust, soon popping up with his other pair of goggles, strapping each on his hat. "'Ow much it gotta hur'er, too, eh? Pain, ain't it?" I diga-dunno whether to feel more weirded out that McJunker's deep, magenta eyes are so soft and comforting, or that both of these guys, after all of their bumbling and large selves, seem to understand what's going on, too. If they can see how tired I am, then...

I lower my gaze into the mold or cloth on the table and bury it in there, and whisper, _You're right, Morie. Of course you are. You and Foster both, digadig..._ Burning through my bangs are the pairs of fiery orbs, much brighter than mine, looking diga-down on me. Even these two can tell. Even the bluntest of the adults we know can tell...

 _Jkonna... oh, dear, you're restless and nervous, aren't you? Tired. Everything. You look like, you know, you feel better around Dino. Maybe he's just as tired and restless and nervous and everything as you are, but maybe you'll do better together. Like... what they're trying to say, about how hard it can be and all that, maybe you should go find him soon... reunite and everything..._

Embarrassed, I blink angrily to myself, muttering with a somewhat sparkier voice, _Morie... Y-yeah, maybe, I diga-dunno. But I... diga-do feel better around him. Diga... should I go find him..? I get now that the two of them just wanted him out, so he wouldn't hear about how hard this all is for me, but... still. He's diga-Dino. He's diga-Dino in pain and he's gonna break something sooner or later. I should.. go, diga, find him, all that..._

Because I diga-don't know what else to rightly diga-do, my fingers curl around the cup in front of me and stuff the rest of the overly-sweetened fluid diga-down my throat: soft, sweet, strong, comforting, protective tea that fuels through me. The extra sugar has more reasons than being a mountain and because Woolbeard can't have any so he wants me to be thankful. Thankful...

"Eeerrgh, Woolbeaaard, I was jus' bout't clean yer ship, and ye had to spill dat durn tea, din'tcha? Diiii'cha? Hurrrmp. Stu-puuuud." Stomping on his muddy boots in place and slowly inching his way about the chamber that's oddly more spotless than I thought a sunken pirate ship should be, Captain Woolbeard and McJunker turn their oversized shoulders away from me, like bodyguards diga-demanding privacy, and saunter off. I guess he brought more tools than I thought. Thank gosh he only lost his... pickin' axe. Pickaxe. Sleepy and upset with myself, I suddenly find that I would be quite satisfied if I'd only flop my head over and tumble into sleep here, until an exceptionally loud noise provokes from the grinding further along the ship.

Grinding and churning that sets the entire wooden body into rumbles, shakes that I diga-didn't know a diga-dead ship could make, seizures that take and cake the ship in their leisure, and until long seconds tick to a stop and suddenly the ship's shaking ends and the wood flops, I'm still and taut. And that bang...

That was a bad bang. A very bad bang.

I skitter to my reluctant feet and snap them into action, stubborn soles, because there's no way else I'm letting this go. Morie squeezes through my set arms for what I later learn to be nothing greater than moral support and it turns out that's exactly what I needed, and more than enough. Lovely little nails embed into my skin and the larger diga-dudes, back to their slouching and ignorant ways, take to not notice me that much, which is a strange relief, to see them acting like themselves again. I move and I move and I move but I still diga-don't see him in the pirate ship, and it's here that I realize I'm leaving behind our little tea party, but that some parties are meant to be crashed, all as I sail through the diga-door and noises _sssscchhhk_ and _smmmaaaak_ before me.

 **Me: yaaay explosive endings**

 **Jkonna: =w= I feel messed up.**

 **Torn: -I'm fucking bored.-**

 **Trikko: -Why are we here again?-**

 **Torn: -Again. Bored.-**

 **Trikko: checking around -Oh, hey, they mentioned that one story back in the other author note. You remember that story? The one we both died in? Same chapter?-**

 **Torn: -Oh yeaaaaah-**

 **Me: =w= -slams them away-**


	15. Ja: Runaway Din-Din!

**Jkonna: I am just so lost right now. So lost, diga, so lost.**

 **Dino: ;w; help me**

 **McJunker/Woolbeard: -casually sipping at their tea in the corner-**

 **Jkonna: guh**

 **McJunker/Woolbeard: -so casual-**

 **Dino: -makes a face-**

 **McJunker/Woolbeard: -it's almost like there's no problems happening anywhere else in this gigantic pirate ship-**

 **Both: aaaahhghghhggghhhhhhhh (digadig)  
**

 **Me: beautiful. This is the perfect moment to start the chapte—**

 **Saurhead: -struts on in-**

 **Me: …**

 **Saurhead: What? No better time than the present. :3**

 **Me: …**

 **Jkonna: …**

 **Dino: …**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 15: Runaway Din-Din!

 _Jkonna_

My breath wheezes so frantically that I diga-dunno how Morie manages not to complain in her position, once I finally realize she's tuckered out in my arms which fold diga-directly under my chest and that can't be all that good for her head. The _bang, bang, bang_ of skull on ribcage would repeatedly get at her, not... mentioning the... included assets in the bargain of her spot... as is. She winces when I try to speak with her; it's a barking attempt at a laugh that cuts through me in more than just rusty throat. Embarrassing. But not embarrassing enough, for I try again. And again. And again. Morie's look only diga-dabs in all the more diga-dour.

Upset with me? Upset with me. Still, not like I have much better to diga-do. I have to find him, and we all heard that big bang. Big bangs diga-do not signal happy things, except for small exceptions that diga-don't count right now, for like the frantic guardian I so wish I was, like gilded letters, that word _guardian_ etched across my soul for him, for all of its worth, I'm terrified. Like I've been diga-dropped into the hole of Foster's hidden fears, that small chink in the icy lake I should've known better than to test my luck on, until _chink, chink, CRAHHH,_ it's all over. The bubbles stream from my mouth and my hands flail frantically, but no reach is caught, none at all.

Arrgg, where is that boy? How can one so loud and crazy diga-disappear so quickly? My heart chugs like a mine cart through my bloodstream, up and diga-down the trills that attempt to crush it, throat raspy with the cries it succumbs to. As far as my orbs can see, and as fast as my bruised, barefooted feet can take me, it seems finding him is out of the question. And I diga-don't like it. Not one bit. Because someone as chilly as him seems that way, I feel like Foster's laughter is eking out of a little corner of my mind. Although he's proved, only on the slightest of terms, against that, when he saw me go all Endangered Jkonna on the universe. Ugh, no, focus: focus on this task at hand, and stop wondering about that whirlpool in the back of your head. It diga-doesn't matter. He— _he_ diga-doesn't matter.

Shouldn't I have run into him by now? And yet the halls remain silent other than the untimely screeching of my calloused soles on nail and splinter and overall diga-dead, diga-decayed, and somewhat petrified wood that makes up Woolbeard's bane and reason of his existence. Still, sounds crank and bonk over sides as he must be running too, and if he'd stay still maybe I'd find him, but it appears that's out of the question. Should I stand still? If I stop, will be be the one to find me; or will he catch sight of my hair blowing in the nonexistent wind of the ghostly waters and leave me barren and hopeless again? And should I chase him, then, or wait for him to run out of power?

Waiting for a boy in ownership of Lone the nasaur to run out of power diga-doesn't happen. Angrily panting, swabbing my forehead, gritting my teeth, sucking in the air that diga-dashes by and just nips off my tongue, looks like it's not the same for Morie the m-raptor. Her green complexion tingles in my arms as said limbs ache in the meaning of their will to fall from my body. But they can't fall. Like immortal strings of life, the sensations run through my body in such suggestion to that they won't: but it sure as heck feels like it will. I'd love to go on without second-guessing limbs or life or any of those wonderful bodily needs but I can't and I can't breathe once more, like the air's swiveled in thick and heated, burbling in water, so now I must stop and crash into a wall of biting material of wood that attempts to take me under its same fate.

A profound squeak pecks through my arms. _Jkonna! Get up! Y-you're crushing me! I said, you're crushing me! Jkonna!_ She's not worried about her health or she'd swivel into her little medal. She's worried for mine. _Hey! Listen to me and do something!_ She knows if it was just me to be worried about I wouldn't move. In some form of proving that my ears work, I slump back and crush diga-decayed earth in a staggering backwards hug. And we share the spasms of pain that cramp my stomach in heaves of _air, oh, my, gosh, air._ I sound like I'd been running for my life. Really it was for his.

Not like it matters. He's still gone. My one indication that he's around here somewhere circles around the whole aspect of _thuk, thuk, thuk thuk thuk, thuk, thuk thuk, thuk, thuk_ shattering from above. Shattering from just ahead. Far away. Nearby. Gone. My head's splitting. Where is he, anyways?

Icy orbs peer through a nexus of soot, age, and wood: they find nothing.

 _Ugh._ I grunt, shifting to one side and forcing myself up using the other. _Ugh!_ Teeth grind. _Where is he!_ It's hopeless now. I just know it's hopeless. _Digadiiiiiig!_

 _He's probably nearby._ She diga-doesn't bother with her wanting me to calm diga-down. _Gotta be somewhere around here. How about we go stand by the entrance and post a guard, to make sure he doesn't escape? And maybe Bomba and myself can be posted around here, too, to help in searching. We can corner him!_ Diga-delightfully, nobody admits to the futabi. _How does that sound?_

Like her diga-ditz of a newborn child, I unsteadily nod my head. Flaming bands chop against a battered forehead. Nothing to say other than my showing that yeah, okay, listening, let's diga-do this I guess. To round it all off and start up the matters, I outrageously plop the green one from my grip and saunter on. My tunic, bent and shifted in multiple ways on my journey, sidles around my thighs and bobbles as I move, its multitude of beads silently clinging against one another in ghostly whispers of noise. Like I'm calling for beasts of otherworldly diga-dimensions to come help me.

Or Woolbeard. I'd much prefer Woolbeard.

Staring incredulously at those beads, I diga-doubt I'll ever take them in stride again. Diga-danger. Little red diga-dots of diga-danger. I shake my head and move on before I go crazy. Knowing that it's her turn next, a still satisfactorily tiny, muddy, gilded creature of diga-dust and diga-dirt crawls through folds and lands, her plump self, into my arms. Bliss chortles warmly in excited excursion for what's to come for some strange reason. I diga-don't run for our tourney, my body barely holding up as is—let's not question how—but take slow, swooping steps that diga-demolish my sense of time.

Until, eventually, coiling around the edges of the ship as bruises galore bloom upon me, like I've become a beacon for flowers of diga-disgusting measures, a yawning, gaping hole the size of a rather large vivosaur spouts just ahead, and I leave the acro there to spurt into her browning size and overtake the entrance, just in case.

More noises. Louder noises. _Thuk thuk PLACK! PLACK PLACK!_ Oh my gosh what is going on. I splinter onward in my painfully simple fashion that's killing me from both too-much-running and -not-enough. He could be hiding in any one of those shadows: while maybe covering his orange face would be a problem, he'd use his hands or something. And he'd stay there. As much light as there is gathered on his gray chest, I diga-dunno if it would be enough.

Higher stakes cross and spin, all diga-dizzy in my head, and now I'm nervous. Higher stakes. Guh.

Ceremoniously plopping the fire-colored u-raptor liberally smoking in feathers on scratchy earthen flooring on the most diga-damp part I could find of this ship, I begin making my way around for a whole five seconds before realizing the horrors of this setup and smacking her into my arms again. Nobody leaves Bomba on her own and turns their back unless they want to lose all that they love. And more. Oh so much more. Hesitant, I glare at that fitful position. Sounds haven't racketed the diga-dreaded walls, so I know we still have yet to find him, but, if I diga-drag Bomba along with me, that means...

 _Ohhhhhh, the horror,_ groans my familiar orange-peel-hatted futabi. His scales bring out the fins of citrus in him; words squirm in my belly because diga-do I really have to diga-do is? Is there any better choice? _Just put me down already, freaking Jkonna. I can hold my own in a fight._ It's like this diga-deep voice, lulling out for me, to me, calling me, kneading into me, it beckons, like it knows what I must diga-do, involving diga-dropping and leaving him here.

Can I trust this guy? I glare at the futabi in my head, though I really have no time to waste on him.

 _thuk thuk thuk_

Is it really worth it?

 _thuk thuk thuk_

Oh come on, I have to have some key options here.

 _thuk thuk thuk_

Should I just... leave? With my two vivosaurs? And cross my fingers?

 _THUK THUK THUK_

Oh who in the world is—

 _CHHHHHRAAAGGGGGG_

Bodies go flying and I'm uncomfortably pinned into pirate splinters again, staring at the moldy ceiling and hating myself silently. If the shoulders weren't quite so big, and the legs quite so meaty, and the face quite so green, relief would pulse within me and grudge to be replaced by tears. Happy tears, mind you, happy ones of sparkly goodness that not even Bomba could accidentally butcher. But this man, who swamps me far more than diga-Dino ever diga-did, proves otherwise. His muscles, strapped within a thin, sun-yellow shirt, slam into my chest.

Today was a horrible diga-day to have to require another form of breathing. Thankfully, out of the ocean, my feathery little u-raptor can handle this one: only now I have to try to pretend that everything diga-doesn't taste so steamy and... crunchy. I never knew the atmosphere had such a... burnt... flavor. Nose twitches out of shape as that plastic, green one lumbers near. The snout bumps against my forehead anyways, diga-despite everything. I'm tempted to rip out those plastic little snow-caps of teeth _idiot._ Shuffling forwards, then backwards, then proving diga-difficulties to be too much, I slouch in place and groan like the ceiling once more and feel oddly in tune to my Foster side of life.

"Ooooh dear! It appears I've fallen on top of you!" Diga. Die. "Gahaha! Excuse me here, Jkonna, let me just..." Kill me kill me kill me he moves but not fast enough and my lungs are burning, literally burning. For once, seeing that this might one diga-day become a life or diga-death matter, the faint and heavenly scent of water vapor settles inside of me as well, pitting Bomba's flames against Foster's bubbles. I cough and I cough and once I have an inkling of an ability to move I diga-do exactly that. My head hits something from behind, and it throbs, but the relief is more evident than all else. Overpowering, like that of the filthy scent of an aquatic vivosaur saving your life.

Stars spin like the shadows all around me, like bubbles must diga-do in their diga-dances to swerve this pirate ship at all times to prevent their fate of being popped. Or maybe they diga-don't care; or maybe they hate this ship as much as I diga-do and that's what's stopping them, if they are being stopped. Then again, I'm not a bubble, so I can't say for myself.

The thick, stale scent of old plastic wafts into my face with its snout. It bonks against me. Ugh. "Don't die now! You'll miss the Burly Gathering Tea Party!" Hearing such a manly voice use those words makes me want to cry. I diga-don't even know why but hot, salty tears lick diga-down my cheeks and it's horrible and suddenly my arms latch out and I'm hugging Saurhead what is wrong with me. "Jkonna, whoaaaa, whaaat's up?" Gruffly gritting his tone up, he mutters it again: "What's up?"

"I... uh... diga... um..." I splutter and splutter and try again and fail. Okay. Okay. I have the capacity to word things correctly; let's see if I diga-do any better this time. Jumping back and slamming my entire other side into the creaky old wall, making it sound worse than it feels in reverberating crunches, I mumble again. "Lots of stuff is up. Especially... uh... diga-Dino... diga..." Then I revert back to staring miserably at the ground. Maybe I still have lots of improvement, but that made it a little better, right? Now he has a faint idea.

I can almost feel his beam pouring out from the cusp of lips and mask. Quite a feat, since he's told us how many of those he'll wear on a regular basis. Not sure why, but he's somewhat insane about the whole identity thing. He's Saurhead, and that's all he wants to be seen as, diga-despite everyone already knowing he's got a brother and a nephew and... a sister or something? Well, not sister but... his brother at least had a wife. Saurhead's probably been through a lot, too, because of all that. "Diga-Dino, you say?" Sitting up somewhat, he folds massive muscles over one another, arms crossed over chest. His cinnamon brown skin seems to shine with the impact it'd had on me.

Pathetically, completely unlike me, I mumble in an even quieter "Yeah..."

"I seeeeee!" He probably diga-didn't but it's a strong effort at trying to cheer my stupid, sadistic self up for I am just here sniveling and it is bad. "Well, he's not here, so should we go look for him?" His voice, booming and all-powerful, consumes over any sort of alarm that a vivosaur would rig, but I'd still know if one of them had snagged the kid. He's freaking impossible; he's my best friend; if I was in his place, it's what I'd diga-do. Avoid.

He'd be here for me in such situation as he was when I told him more about myself than just about anyone else has ever heard from these here lips, but I wouldn't react alright; I'd be just as unstable, petrified, lonely, lost, scared. So I can get where the guy's coming from. I can get that.

"C'mon, Jkonna, let's go."

An abandoned baby nasaur in this nexus of a pirate ship, I waddle along after him with my hair trailing in limp lines of light, flickering over the edge like a half-lit flame, like Bomba only half cared and now she diga-doesn't, and Foster just about never cares enough to put me out. This is what friends are for. I snort. Saurhead diga-doesn't force me to hold his hand as I waddle childishly, and for that I'm at least thankful. If I ever had any diga-dignity—and I diga-doubt even that much—it's surely about mauled now, but he at least has that much in him to not force his big man hand on top of my diga-darker and colder fingers.

Bartholomew Bullwort: his baby brother, I believe. Owner and founder of the BB Bandits. Apparently had a wife at some point and diga-did have a child, only... the child's not here anymore. Most probably not diga-dead but... not here. What diga-did happen to the kid? Diga-dunno. I think diga-Dino'd mentioned something like... when he'd had that Saurhead battle... that Saurhead told him about how his nephew, feeling unloved, had ran away to live in the orphanage with two other kids that actually had no family and then they all ended up somewhere else. Somewhere safe? Maybe. That'd be particularly nice and pleasant of them.

His booming voice sneaks over and enters my head all over again. "His name was Lester, you know. My nephew. Bartholomew's son." Clears his throat. "He hadn't the sense to change his name, so I know, if I ever hear that name again it'll be him. So I'm always on the lookout for it; haven't heard it yet but I know, one day, that I will, somehow or another. From one scarred hand to the other, eh?" What, uh, okay. Diga-dumbly, I sort of can't say much and continue to numbly follow. Not sure where we're going, but the noise stopped some time ago. It's just us marching. But he wouldn't have escaped from Bliss to get out; while the rest of his vivosaurs wouldn't be able to control him for the reason alone of Lone, like, they'd have to diga-do something at least on the impact of my fat and beautifully fat acro.

It should be okay. At least here, it should be okay.

They'd make a ruckus anyways. Diga-Dino would look at Bliss and end up crying in her arms. I know him. It should be okay.

As Saurhead leads onward, some part of me or another works and I wonder if he has a clue on what the heck he's diga-doing. Then again, I'm sure in this state, it's safe to assume anyone would know better than me, so I shouldn't be worried. I'm just happy he's not, like, Foster or anything. He was trying at conversation earlier. Maybe I should try at conversation too. Considering... considering... naaaah.

Like he could hear how broken and trying I've been, although his flaming pants swish onward from where I'm looking in snowballs of eyes, melting not under their diga-decal but the situation, Saurhead speaks. "So... random, but now you know, I guess. He's younger than you and Dino by... I'd say five or four years, but if he's anything like the both of you, he's out there somewhere."

"Saurhead?" It's like my mouth won't listen to me and now I'm freaking out. "Diga-do you know where—where—where..." A wheeze. Oh gosh. "Where diga...Dino is..?" I guess I had to ask, since he's the reason I'm moving in the first place, but still, it was a little random: and why? I just... wow, I'm just like my maternal vivosaurs now.

He diga-does pause, and I diga-don't see it until his wall of a back meets my face and I stumble and somehow manage not to bite into the ground again. Staring a little diga-dazedly upwind, toward the ceiling wedged in bubbles and petrified woods, bits of water, seaweed, and lichen, I try to catch my breath, which just runs loose and open without my controlling now. My hands clap together and hold one another tight, because I have no other hands I can hold that make me feel this much closer to him. "Jkonna...

The diga-deep voice, rasping and alluring, summons. "I can't say I know more than you do, but we both heard him go silent. I have some assumptions on where he's gotten himself locked into, and they may or may not reveal him, can't say, but I always gotta have a plan ready. I'm just that kinda dude. And here's my plan." Well, better than nothing. Also, my vivosaurs are too stupid to check—okay, no, they're more loyal than stupid to check impeding hallways for trespassing shadows because they'd much rather stay in the place I told them to stay. Really, so long as Bliss keeps her spot, they'd be fine, but whatever. I carry my stubborn futabi and scatterbrained u-raptor in the back of my mind as we lumber onward.

Can't remember her name, but I think Saurhead has a shanshan. They're usually tiny and pink and evil, but his is green and about a zillion times worse. She's kind, though, too, pretty much unlike most things I've ever seen. At least, she's kind when she's not tearing you to bits. I wonder how she and Saurhead get along; maybe he's one of those guys that needs a bit of light in his life in the form of a snot-colored shanshan sweetie. I guess we all have little bits of glitter-like light in our lives.

Is diga-Dino shadowing my light, or was he my light slowly turning to shadow?

Somehow I get this feeling it's the latter, wadded up in my throat and horrendously croaky. Like this never happened and he's only diga-doing what he diga-does, Saurhead's one meaty man hand, so warm it shudders with it, grapples upon mine and shrugs us on further. We surpass empty windows, broken diga-doors tottering on rusty hinges, the creaks and cracks that follow anyone taking the walk of diga-death on the ghost ship of the Bay. My hair shivers, cold to the touch, making me feel like an impossible current continues to buffet me. Still air. Silence. Can't be possible. This foggy sense of emptiness cloaks us outside of the strangely saving grace of our harsh toes smacking into petrified and olden wood. Saurhead diga-doesn't wear shoes, either.

We peek through the first opening, which he mentions is one of three suspected areas to check. When he's not there, it's not like I should panic, seeing that there's still that high chance of his face poking out from one of the other chambers, and this was the one Saurhead found least expecting of diga-Dino's residence, but it'll be the third one I'm sure, he'll be in the third one and it'll take forever and I'm freaking out again, only this time I register this tiny notion in the back of my head. Like ice it coats me, like my eyes only give a reflection of the chills within me. For a hot-blooded redhead, I've become hopeless. Saurhead has to diga-drag all the much more to force my stumbling toes to diga-do something, and even then he must hear nails chipping, toes bending. He must not like it.

Wincing, I hobble after him, feeling like an abandoned fool. Not much turd to hold me against that. Brown speeds by and clogs into my vision, pinches on my toes, my hair whipping frantically around me as my motions grow all the more mixed and slow and sleepy, until I can hardly feel myself moving.

Tearing past the big man, I must hit a slip of neat and tidy wood that diga-doesn't trip me up like it should, clumsy me, because I diga-don't fall for some time, sailing through the air and charging through an opening, lost and alone and betrayed and stone: empty and awkward I fall now and tug in angry gestures to his cold body and hug him tightly. Words sizzle in my mouth, words I'm not sure how to use, that threaten to burn him. I fight them back inside of me and continue to silently hug his frigid body. As cold or worn as I found myself, my journey's nothing to his icicle of a heart, encased behind bars he still has yet to break. As much as it ekes out, it's never fully there, not yet.

It throbs inside of me. It starts in my fingers, which register and clamp tight on him like I never want to let go—and I diga-don't. It travels through bulging veins in my arms that continue to throb and bleed in me, crisscrossing from the motions in my clamped fingers full of his black scales, until from my toes to legs, my heart and my head, my splitting head, it all collides massively in a ball of mottled, knotted, filthy heat. I can hardly breathe. The longing for him to get better is almost too much for me; it's proved to be too much so many times in the past. If I can't hold myself together, he'll just copy me, and as much as I hate this and know this, I have to hold back these flames or I will burn him.

 _Atta girl._ He says nothing else. His voice, a whisper of the groan it sometimes pretends to be, bends and accepts me all over again. From somewhere around us, in a sickening loop of crunches, Lone's running, and running, nonstop hyperactive and unable to end herself. I mutter something and suddenly diga-delighted, a ball of wet fins matching the waves and stones of beyond leaps unto the chase and snags the nasaur, not quite sitting on her but locking the smaller form in a hug too bold of her to break out of.

Other creaks spread throughout the chamber, even though I know that Pippy and Harei and diga-Droplet, before I called her, had been silent and good, and Iggy of course too. My eyes diga-dart from his bright orange, splotchy, face for the amount of time that lets me see the meaty man sifting into some bunch of fluff and form that fits him into one of those chairs scattered about. I focus back on diga-Dino then, one hand gently pulling the wood chips from his sticking, tangled, soft spines of hair as Saurhead sighs. "Aaaaah~"

He muses. "I could get used to this, gotta say." I'm not really focusing; he's not really focusing: is Saurhead talking to my futabi? Perhaps. Or Lone, maybe. Lone's energy amount... While the others had sat, she'd helped him, and I can't say that she diga-did something wrong, only beg of her to not kill herself abusing all of that insane energy. It was... kind of her to watch out over him, to help him anyways. And... and now I'm here. My other vivosa—oh, turd...

 _All in the clear._ Second thing he's said that actually made me smile all diga-day. He's... helping, for some strange reason I diga-don't quite understand. Foster's... acting kind and... helping me now. Waiting, waiting, he diga-doesn't take it back and I have that much less of an understanding of him.

It takes me time before I can hear him, panting between breaths, his tears sopping up most of the words, until finally I can read through the guise and see that he's trying to tell me something. I pour all that I can into those weak, gray orbs and assure him that I'm right here, right now, and, rightly, forever. My hands find his and I tightly clamp them. It's moments like these that shine through on how much we have to trust one another with these things, how much we have to rely on the other or we'll both sink. And he never tweets a word through his flitting heart trapped in its hold, but he knows, and I know.

"Jkonna..." That's the first word. I squint, and he has to repeat himself for the umpteenth time, but once I see the unmistakable motion of his mouth clamping and expanding and flicking back again, "Jih-kaw-nuh," I fiercely put effort into his almost voiceless whisper. "—it's cold and scary here. I wanna go." It diga-dawns on me that he never found the pickaxe he was asked of, and it never was hidden in this pirate ship in the first place: while the two wanted that time and forced in that time of stalling him and privately speaking to me, to force him out on his own to a journey he won't even be able to complete...

That's kinda cold. His heart awkward and hidden as is, in the moments we can see it, to just ice it right over, make him diga-do something he won't succeed in: I scowl, and it's not until buds of blood pour through my bite that I lose the words diga-doused in my feelings. What exactly I wanna say to them. His grip is tight, and I stay, because there's no way I could leave.

If he wants to go, then we'll go. No more words about it. I diga-don't tell him we have to wait for my vivosaurs, or that it'd be rude to leave Woolbeard and McJunker hanging, or we shouldn't force Saurhead to tag along—although that's all my diga-doing anyways—because none of that matters. He wants out, and I'm getting him out. And that's all. Gently pulling at him, I try once again to diga-do what my beloved diga-dad told me not to, until the situation flips and his hands are on my shoulders and now he's pulled me toward him. And now I'm the one to be carried. He's injured and he's carrying me.

For a moment, there's no movement; he at least diga-doesn't wanna be rude to the green-masked man behind us. Tangling myself to one side, sort of knotted in scaly arms but it's fine, I face him and tell him, "We're gonna go visit your... diga, brother, digadig."

This idea. This hope. This promise inside of me that I have to ink out and use to the best of my Jkonna ability. Light. It's easier to figure these things out when the one that needs figuring, bless his soul, has me right with him. How even as he's stuck, he's still got me, and somehow, he knows. He diga-doesn't react to my words, only stands there and lets them pass through him, the gate in his soul allowing them by. Okay great maybe it's not a terrible idea. Bartholomew Bullwort.

"But..." he sighs and then says it, "But the tea!" He's completely joking and we all know it. That burly party gathering thing with the tea has no sense of meaning to him, nothing like his baby brother, baby to him even in this age now. Smirking behind the mask, his teeth most certainly matching with those chompers molded into the green maw, Saurhead nods satisfactorily. "I wonder if he'll like having some recognized guests over with him." I wonder what diga-Dino will think of it...

Hopelessly, I glance through stormy orbs that tell me nothing. The fact alone that he hasn't voiced against it could mean something, but I've never seen his eyes hide his feelings so well. Maybe he himself diga-doesn't know; but he wants to try. And try he will. I've seen him give up on things too, but this... this is a diga-different story. It just... it just feels that way.

So in thick, awkward hearts that have feelings they can't quite express, our eyes blending together in one strange color of steely ice, him casually carrying her—me—we're off, and we're leaving, and he's happy for that reason if no other. Smirking and lumbering, the clomps of Saurhead's massive feet on abused pirate ship follows, as reluctant as the wood sounds. So now we go... off we'll go.

 _Morie_

I sputter in place and sit on my feet again. Tiny, insignificant, cold—oh, it's so cold in here! I've never had quite so thick a hide as the others, and on my own, it's so painfully palpable just how chilly this forsaken ocean-skimmer is to me. My fairly attractive, not very but fairly attractive scales pucker in the annoyance of this chill, and I lower my beak into my chest. It's disgusting, how frigid my poor bill will become, how crusty and disgusting it gets if it's chilly! I suppose I'm just unlucky, and I hadn't noticed the burr of a cold until now, but oh, dear, how I dislike this! Where is Dino, anyways? In my position, further off and silent, as I don't talk to myself like Bliss does, one would think I'd at least catch a glimpse of his shadow. How? How does he do this?

Oh, dear, Jkonna would be piping if she found out how horribly this is going. Me, silent, cold, upset with myself: no Dino, not even a wink of a sight. I've stopped blinking in the vain attempt to find him, but not a bit of a black-and-orange shadow, just the hint of gray, has concurred. Flustered and frustrated, I abide to allow myself one single blink, right now, just one. Oh. How heavenly it felt to close my autumn eyes for just a moment, but I'm not allowed to, not again, I must wait right here. It was a sudden outbreak and shove of hers that landed me in this position, but I can't leave now.

Shifting, my yellow-feathered head prickles, like my brain is trying to waken me from a halfhearted stupor. The feathers tickle me where I land; talons cross along my feet and I sigh, upset with myself about this. No signal has been heard, so it's not like Bliss miraculously has found the boy, that lug of rusted brown. I dearly love her, but she would never make quite a mission this easy and well. An annoyed spy, I glare into the semi-darkness and see nothing. But of course.

Scales effortless and pressed, I dig them into the soft wood of the ground and stay in this position for a moment, my small body soon dragging them out again. I've... gotten palpably bored. If one of those louder and larger brutes were to wander over and see me, they would more likely than not be worried for my health. I'm only bored. And a little lonely. Oh dear, did Jkonna place Bomba off on her own in a corner? She knows not to leave her alone! Because nothing smells of charred anything, I'd presume she thought better, thank goodness, but did she really? I'm... not quite sure. Worrisome. Most likely, um, it should be okay. Most... likely.

Bored isn't an emotion I particularly care for. Disgusting over endearing, useless over helpful, it's spots in my head and I really don't like this. If I strain my ears real hard and shift my head to one side, I can hear just the tiniest snippet of Bliss's voice rebounding over wall after wall after wall. If I need to send her a message, I calculate the distance I'd have to go—perhaps down the stairs to my left and farther down the hallway—and how long it would take it to reach her—a few seconds at the earliest. I wonder if she's trying to tell me something right now.

Well, she wouldn't be so coordinated about it, so she might be. Oh... but what if she is? Suddenly worried and bored with my position anyways, I lift to my legs and chase for the stairs, soon idiotically tripping and falling and nearly splintering through a hole which I thankfully divert. My skull instead crashes into one of the bottom steps. I groan softly, but it could be worse. Ah, how foolish of me! I need to be more careful, my goodness. It's usually not this bad...

For us all to be so affected by Jkonna, affected by Dino... quite a tizzy. I force myself upwards and angrily shake my feathered head in the vain attempt to work myself up again, but, _plap._ I land. I glare dizzily through the floorboards to try to keep my mind in check as not to fall asleep on me, and thankfully, although black, sinister stars gather just on the edges of my vision, I don't lose myself to unconsciousness. I think Bliss has stopped yowling. She probably only had some interesting tidbit to tell herself about. Oh, woe is me...

I fiddle on the ground, shifting awkwardly in place, and even try to cry out for some form of help in my newfangled and horrid position. Surely now, if Dino comes, he'll run right by and I'll be useless! Jkonna would outright hate that sort of effort! I shift again, a little more frantic, and although I don't find myself further along in the spaces I wish to be, perhaps I feel a little warmer of the spirit, that perhaps I can find a way up. It's not quite working, any of my chances: still... um... still... I leave off with that bright huzzah and scramble for recognition in my tampered position.

None of this is helping me. How do I move from here? I'm... um... I'm... not quite...

Oh, dear, the stars are bright and hot in my vision now. I have to focus or I'll lose it. In fear of falling asleep and really missing the boy, I force myself, pouring energy into open eyes that won't blink, like glassy buttons of a doll's, and I stay exactly like that. Nothing to deter me. Nothing to dare pop into my path. Just awake, awake... a-awake...

Moments go fuzzy and some outright erase from my mind. I'm losing it; I'm losing it. Time spirals on the thin point of a talon: black comes in and out and in again, a cold, alluring tide that won't quite drop me. In those precious moments where I actually do sport control over myself, talons move on their own, eyes wide open, just about, I spend all of the time struggling to move without thinking for a moment on rescue for I should be able to do this myself. A vivosaur of Jkonna has her own weight to carry, and here is mine, and I can do this.

At some point or another, mirroring my next lapse in time, an eye opens and just straight in front of it features a wasteland of red: fear. _Yeeeep!_ I said not to waste energy on sound but there it goes, and I stutter back, suddenly in vast control of myself. I find that, as I stand here, oddly, my body fuels in heat and feels... warm, almost preferable for snuggles. Not crusty and cold and green and... gross. Shaking out my somewhat-feathered head, I peer and—oh, phew, not a wasteland, just a hide straight up in front of me. Because someone else has arrived, and perhaps they can help with this sporting headache, I wobble and rest against them, panting eagerly. Blacks spots dance: oh, how putrid and dizzy. _Ohhh, thank goodness someone's found me... I'm so tired... Weak of me to let you know but... aaahh... this feels so nice..._

 _Never thought I felt so good._ Wait. That spark of a tone. Dull. Almost thoughtless. Empty of most emotions other than a constant confusion. I squeak in place, try to trill, but with a head too dizzy to care much, I flop pathetically against their similar-shaped body again and outright pule in a sad, hope-dashing sort of cry.

 _Aaaaahh... Bomba! Why are you here! How haven't yo—how haven't... um, this ship, it's not on fire! How did this come to be!_ I suppose it's useless asking the one who, although clueless, starts the fires. As she mutters her useless response, I bob my head for her to show I'm listening, as lost and deteriorated I feel.

She in her duller tone curls a cherry lip. _Ohh, I'm very glad now. I couldn't find you anywhere and got worried. Why did you disappear, Morie? We weren't playing hide-and-seeekk..._ It's accusing of her to ask in that sharp flicker of a retort.

I suppose it's up to me to retort back. _Why, I was not! Jkonna instructed me to keep watch... but I heard Bliss and tripped and... fell..._ As if to remind me of my mistake, a sudden pang overtakes my skull. It hasn't cracked—so far as I've heard—so I should be fine relatively soon. It's just taking extra long to heal... dear me... _So, uh, what are you doing here, Bomba? I'm very happy and relieved to see you here, but, why?_

 _Oh? Why? Uhhhhhh..._ Don't tell me she forgot; it's one of the few times I'm in complete and utter reliance for the response of her addled mind. She can he soft and sweet and cute in her ways, but her... mind... is in an obviously Bomba-esque state, as one might state for Lone, that nasaur, as well. _Because... Jkonna and Dino were all trying to hug it out and I got worried about you duh?_ Oh, so they found one another. It's almost like bringing severe lovers back into the other's arms, only they don't quite feel such a passion around one another.

It soon becomes evident why I've felt this near-feverish warmth for this time. Bomba's ashes-warm and lava-red snout, sidled against me, proves the cause of this tepidity in me for once. Sure, I love her, and I understand these matters, but, but, it's embarrassing! Not so embarrassing that I'd wish to talk her out of it, more a mind-numbing I-can-hardly-believe-someone-wants-to-kiss-me embarrassing that one cannot get over quite easily. Fumbling and awkward, I peer toward her curiously, awkwardly.

 _What now?_

 _I think we're going home._ Her charred orbs watch me curiously through cheeks inflated with an extraneous assortment of air. _Wanna go home? How about we go home. It's... like, not the starship though. I think it's like... the... place with the guy._

Feeding her information to keep her roving on, I ask, _The turquoise guy?_

Recognition. Bingo indeed. _Yeah. The turquoise guy._

We strut off, talon-in-talon, together in search of wherever Bliss has wandered off to, for Bomba also believes that she heard her earlier getting nervous so we should go find her. And together we shall go, and later we shall unite, with our dear Jkonna, in the vain hopes she hasn't harmed Foster on our way back home together.

 **The fact that Foster is the only one currently with Jkonna sure makes it sound like she'll do something bad to him... xD Since she doesn't like him and all. But I think it's also a little evident that she's gotta... like him a little, right? At least some.. hahaha... because he's growing on her. I dunno.**

 **Do any of you like Foster the futabi? XD Just curious, hahaha.**

 **Welp, winter break is just about over, so this is my last chapter of crazy-fast pace (though this one took longer TTwTT) The pace will be back to once-a-week here on out, until.. other stuff happens, eheh. Sometimes I get two a week if I get an extra day off. We'll see~ But it's just this crazy story until I'm done. X3 Well... mostly, ahahaha.**


	16. Ja: We're all Bad Here

**Me: yaaaaayyy more Jkonnaaa  
Oh, but the next chapter is really special... for reasons that coincide with this chapter... x3**

 **So hooray! Now we're going to run around and meet Bullwort, and that's always fun. At least, we should meet Bullwort, if, y'know, Dino doesn't do one of this tantrum thingies koffagain**

 **Dino: … ;w; duuuuuude**

 **Jkonna: -is about ready to strangle me yay-**

 **Me: haaaaaaa -hoists umbrella and tries to fend them off and it sort of works-**

 **Droplet: -Man, you're bad at this.-**

 **Me: =w=**

 **Jkonna: -gives up and rams at the umbrella which obviously doesn't work oh thank gosh-**

 **Me: Welp, I'm going to now write the chapter while wielding this umbrella like it's a weapon yaaay**

 **Jkonna: -growling noises-**

 **Me: or maybe I'll just not turn my back to her that sounds like a good idea**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 16: We're all Bad Here

 _Jkonna_

At some point, he'd put me diga-down, so we walk together, the equals we are, beneath the gilded plains of moonlight that diga-drape almost in a diga-dangerous jaunt across us. Light from the stars above shines brightly within his scaled body, diga-drowning out all of the black inside of him. His orange only blooms into a soft, pale coloring I feel like I've seen somewhere, so gentle and calming, and yet somehow fitting him. I'd never seen him before to be so creamy. Liquid. Liquid with sugar and a sort of swirling milkiness that isn't mystery but some sort of diga-divine sensation of light, shine, the framing of shadows to somewhere far away.

It gives him a hopeful tinge that he otherwise can't show up for. One that I've been trying to imprint into his stubborn scales this entire time. This liquid diga-darkness so easily, once sparkled in the diga-dust of the night, captures it, captures him, gives him this look that almost tucks his feeling into folds and diga-discards them. So very almost. Just one little word and six little letters: a-l-m-o-s-t. So close. But so far. Our bare feet strike as equals into the gritty soil below, and we continue to stroll.

Because it ruins the mood, we both pretend Saurhead isn't all gaudy and man and not-us and junk right behind us. So secure he won't leave me and to prove I won't let him, my hand never quite leaves his side. I glance curiously—more fearfully—into sharp strikes of shadowy eyes every once in awhile to make sure he's still looking among the stars and not diga-deep in the gravel once more. His head's held high; I can hardly believe it. But there it is. There it is...

He's here, and I'm here. He may not be fully here, but he's coming back, bit by bit. My colder and weaker eyes flit for the waves to the side, and I watch them wave and wend within one another, and I wonder if it's like charred and broken creases of his missing puzzle pieces are beginning to collect on the shoreline. One of his mind. One where the milkiness all but diga-dries up, where his conscience tries to lap and secure itself again.

I have to be secure for him, or he'll fall apart. Shards of him will cut and I'll lose my grip and it will be bad, so I probably shouldn't diga-do that... I gotta hang onto him.

Like some crazy nanny, Saurhead relentlessly follows behind.

Respectable, he's quiet and he lets us hang onto one another, for me to tug at diga-Dino for no real reason other than to make sure he's there, and for him to stop and watch as I stop too, and then only to start again. Gosh. He makes a really talented nanny. I guess, after losing Lester, he's learned: to watch over others now.

The Lester guy... He'll come back, then, right? He can't just go, now that his uncle's ready for him. Diga-dunno what to say for Bullwort, guess we'll find out, but Lester can't freaking go now. Some nagging bit in the back of my head, kneading and biting me, feels like he's not diga-dead, but it's not like I can tell or anything. Oh, maybe Morie's screaming at me somewhere far away. Or it's Foster. Just Foster. Freaking Foster.

He groans like a long lost foghorn. _I'm afraid I'm growing used to your tone. Do I let this transformation continue... or do I try to stop it? Hrrr... that is the question. To... to be, or not to be..._

I just kinda sigh. It's pathetic, but I can't help it; that and the morbid part of my head wonders what sorta words Bliss would yell at that statement. I think it's something poetic. Royal, a zesty, flavorful tone of "to be or not to be," but, like, to be what? To be who? My eyes wander and land on the taller boy to my side whose slouch almost levels our height: to be... or not? Well... I'm not gonna let him stop "being" anytime soon. You're stuck with me, my eyes signal, striking over him one last time before I release a puff of breath and shake my head. Fiery hair scatters everywhere.

Since he's still following us, and he hasn't spoken on the fact that we're tramping around in the gloom, I guess Saurhead thinks his brother won't care that we're visiting in the diga-dark. Diga-does he sleep? Uh, can he sleep? Manage it? Is it hard to close his eyes at night, maybe? I... diga-dunno why it would be; before he got very far in anything, diga-Dino came up and crunched his position, for the most part. But diga-Duna helped that one time. All he really managed to diga-do was soil his reputation and screw up that one ice ancient—Thomas, yeah, him, freaking lover of Iggy: weirdos. He's shorter than Pippy, which is funny. They both are, really, but Thomas had that huge sauropod gap in his body so it's just kinda funny that that sort of ancient is shorter than Pippy the pip-pip cheerio giant seismo.

Over gravel. Crunching gravel. My toes cry silently and I ignore them. I hover near diga-Dino and never leave his pace, no matter how slow or fast of fluctuating it goes, I stick with him. Saurhead must follow from behind; he's managed not to bump into us, so hooray for that. Soon gravel and diga-dirt transfers into soft, bountiful sprigs of grass that leads up a long path, past the flower pink Guild Shop, past the diamond of the Richmond Building, where Rosie must be lurking, and into the squat little thingy of black and blue in the corner we all call the Police Station. A few apprentice officer diga-dudes hang around at the front; some seem off to other places while one stays in his position. It's not like the place is super formidable, but it's tiny and cozy and they have coffee, like, all the time, and it's where Bullwort's stuck now, to make sure he diga-doesn't like get Iggy too or whatever the heck he wants now. To make sure he's at least a little okay.

Some said he was crazy; that's why he diga-did it. But that there was some calming area, like he's been sliding diga-down the rim of the cup but he once was hot and comforting in the middle of it all. He's got a son to show for it: well, somewhere. And a brother. A brother who boldly breaks in and bothers him, sees him, all the time. For him. And he at least once had a wife.

He's gone through some hard times. So has diga-Dino. And if the brother of Bartholomew thinks it's an idea, good enough to not shoot over with a massive hand of his, then I guess it'll be okay, in the least. We've got as much as it'll be okay. Because I'm worried, and because I'm scared, and because I want him to be okay, even at the expense of my sanity, I whisper: _What's your opinion..?_

 _Whose opinion?_ I hate you.

 _Yours, Foster, diga-darn it. What the heck is Foster's opinion on this whole diga setup and pretty please digadig with vivo-cakes on top._

For some unknown reason, the specimen abides after snorting about me calling him a specimen. _I think... well..._ His usual sagging groan lifts, like the fog is revealing some hidden piece of the futabi I hadn't seen before. Like there's something that now he wants me to see. _I guess I... I think..._

Blinding images pop out of nowhere and sear over my face. I can walk and I can go but they bombard me, and there's more than just one futabi in these images, there's three, five, twelve of them, and they're frantically swimming, chopping through icy breaks of waves like it's nothing while a mewling one of them, smaller than most but bigger than others, tries to hang on and all of their similarly hardened blue eyes crack because of fear for this force acting on them. Because she's not okay, and they have to make sure she is, and she's leaning on _him_ , out of all of them. The fear is so evident it's just spiraling and webbing over my heart and it throbs, it beats against the emotion within me, and it's cold. And it's scary. Because it just grows harder and thicker and it won't break.

And now Foster has a sleepy fog that diga-disguises how he feels, because sometimes he diga-doesn't know anymore, and he diga-doesn't want to think about it. So he remembers who he was—who he is. Before diga-dying. Before fossilizing. Before getting stuck with me, out of everyone. He remembers.

Swinging his long neck and coiling it back, he mutters, _I guess it'll be okay or whatever. Y'know. Hrrrrmph._ It diga-drowns out into a sigh and the fog thickens again and he's just sleepy, stupid Foster now. I find a creepy amount of relief that his biggest thoughts weren't about Bliss. While, uh, yeah, it's like sad and all, the diga-darkness that was there, that diga-drained and overtook that girl, whoever, I can't help but feel happy that there really and truly won't be any romance going on with him and poet girl.

Quietly he adds, _Yeah, I'm happy about it too._

This time, I diga-don't tell him to shut up, and I diga-don't tell him that he's stupid; and he diga-doesn't tell me that now he won't let it grow on him when I snap back. As small and fragile and weaker-than-Lone and much-quieter-than-Lone as is, some sort of actual, tangible bond, squishy and alive, was formed here. I feel it beating, bleating, squishing around in my chest: it's a weird thing, but it's kinda nice too. I never realized how much I've taken Bliss and Bomba and Morie for granted, because I never thought about needing to get so close because we shared things at my young age.

Looks like now it's Foster's turn too. Gosh. Never expected fate to diga-do this to me. I snort and try to pretend I diga-didn't when gray eyes give me this look like "what the heck best friend what was that."

Quietly, it reminds me of when diga-Dino and diga-Droplet started to show wear in their hating of each other. But then Foster is silent, and he's back to yawning and groaning and just Fostering all over the place. But now I have a little piece of him. Out of all the turd he's suffered and shifted through from me, must've found so much turd about my life right then, now I have that little bit too.

They must be with him still. Four little tuckered vivosaurs and maybe, probably, Iggy. Saurhead... for all we know, he has a water vivosaur, or he wouldn't have gotten out of Bottomsup Bay so easily, and the shanshan the color of clovers. A tiny miniature thing; a terrifying monstrous thing.

When we pass by, the cop guy comes up close and I feel his soft, lax fabric the color of the night sky rolled out and trimmed brush over my stronger brown material that was itchy until I got used to it. Stars of buttons bedazzle his coat, stars that shine in diga-Dino's eyes when he looks a little curiously and shies away from the brightness. The cop diga-dude, his hat tipping and sparkling even more, almost stops us until our hulking nanny steps up to him and gives him that Saurhead look, the only one he really has since he's masked, and we pass on through without so much of another whisper. It helps, having friends. Always diga-does.

Winding through the posh chamber, much less tidy, but in a relaxing sort of way, books out on the table just ahead as well as the couches and chairs, the quilts halfway diga-down on the rugs, the stone floor just the slightest of diga-dusty. On the inside, red diga-dominates, and it's a cheerful relaxing mixed in with the mahogany, at least I think it's mahogany, a strong brown forming the table, the cushions blue but the rest a nice red or black, altogether warm and happy. Farther out there's a booth draped in quilts, streaming from one side of the room to the other, and I think Saurhead's got a key cuz whatever the heck else jingles that much cuz then he can unlock the casing and allow us to file in. Glass covers the tops of the booth, so there's no way we'd just climb through.

I mean, it's a jail. If we're not safe... well...  
But it's nice. It's still chipper and warm, and I turn to the side and see a bright, fiery soul chuckling in and crackling with the wood, boxed in by warm bricks of a sunny old red. Still, the big wooden diga-door, this one to the left, beckons, and the same key unlocks this as well, and while the cell's sort of small and a little diga-dreary, the chamber holds a bookshelf practically puking up text and there's a window stuffed in glass and safety but it's still a window looking out unto a bright night that even reaches here. In the corner, chair scooted to search out the horizon, there faces Bullwort.

His mustache looks much more sure of itself now. I think those are little sprinkles of a beard starting. Little brown shoots just slightly suggestive around his chin, to some point in his neck. He's in this huge, loud sweater, stripes, the fruit orange and grapes purple stripes. Somehow, silently, he seems to like it. Pants, purposely worn even in all of their rainbow patches, once soft and black and now really colorful, bend around him. I think he has socks on but I can't really tell from where he's sitting and staring. Not to stand and stare from the same place, bold and upright, but to sit and watch comfortably.

All those lines on his forehead means he's diga-doing more than just watching. "Worry," I mouth to diga-Dino, and silent, shadowed by complete awe, he nods a little awkwardly. It's a quiet moment, now. Quieter than when we're with diga-Dynal, us looking up to him and his words flowing smoothly, stones diga-down a waterfall, a very soft and peaceful presence permeating. It feels the same, but it's really not: this is someone who's gone through much more than our other diga-dad, because although he felt these sorts of feelings, loss of his wife as well as loss of his kids, he never truly acted on them. They were still somehow controlled.

Bullwort's.. diga-different. Very.

Now, after all of it's said and diga-done, he's quiet and he's watching and he's worrying about something, or maybe someone. His wife..? Uh... Lester? So close to diga-Dino that I can feel his scales rubbing off on me, we share another glance. My hair by now's gotten a little tangled against him, too. We're stuck together.

A wash of a grumble pours in: _I don't really like this... I just remember all that turd that happened and man, I really don't like this... I don't care how anyone, anyone else feels about this, but I really, really don't like it._ Droplet. She must not have the happiest of memories about the guy. About Saurhead too. I remember there was this battle and then diga-Dino was unconscious for like a week, so I can't blame her.

Lone, on the other hand... Tiny and tired, she's still quiet like she's been, and she's thinking. _Hrrrm. I... never reaaaally had a reason to like you know like hate either of them and all that since... well I like wasn't you know around when that whole Bullwort thing happened but I was when we beat up Saurhead but I didn't get to fight Saurhead just Droplet but I did have a horn that one time and I like stabbed Vivian's vivosaur with it and I rode Iggy and it was fun wasn't it? It was so fun._

Pippy's with her, all bubbly, always bubbly, he can't cut his accent. _Dear... well, I do believe this is a strange occasion, and I recall with my own eyes battling Bullwort... u-um, we all deserve a second chance, don't we? I think it'll be okay... I think this might help out a lot! I think it's nice to see him again, so silent and, well, a little pacified, if I do say so myself!_ Harei's golden head bobbles; without speaking, it's obvious where she is. And it's obvious where diga-Dino is. As much as he loves his krona, he diga-doesn't agree: but he diga-does accept her.

Foster asks Lone some random question and her chatter spreads like peanut butter over us, thick and gooey and... a little nice, in a way. She's still not yelling. Although I think Lone diga-didn't always yell even before everything. Back when diga-Dino first... "befriended" her, though they diga-didn't get along much at first. She's grown louder, and it swooned, but she can be quiet too. And it's been quiet; and so she is.

Hesitantly, when a green mask searches over to us in this sorta beckoning manner, his head flicking over and turning back to his brother, we inch along. The ground buffets our toes and oh my gosh why is it so warm I love this carpet.

As people, we want to be ourselves and... maybe sometimes we act badly, but... it's not like we diga-deserve to be locked up somewhere horrible and chilly. We need softness and care for us to heal. So it's not like I diga-didn't expect this but okay it's even warmer in here than in diga-Dynal's beautiful starship, which I love but this heat... it's... very lush. Very comforting. I really freaking love it here. Not that I wanna be an officer or like anything. Besides, I diga-don't have the compassion. Everyone knows I'd yell a lot and it would be horrible.

By my side, gray orbs watch me a little warily. When I move, he mirrors me, and we eventually make it to Saurhead's side, and then his brother catches sight of the two figures who also strutted on in. "Why, I'll be..." he murmurs. It's almost a sleepy, rolling voice, nothing like the stout, ordering one I'd first heard via imitation via diga-Dino. I'd never actually come in contact with him. But still... you hear BB Boss, you think thick and broad and tough. Not so soft. I guess it helps to be kept here.

Gesturing back toward the other room, he nods a little solemnly. A tiny little crop of his diga-dark hair sits on his head, which I can kinda see better now that I'm here. "There's chairs over there. Pull up some. Have a seat."

Personality flips are real things. Or maybe... maybe this was him before BB Boss and all that. Before everything. What... caused him to act so scary in the first place, then? Well... diga-Dynal had that composure about losing his son, his diga-daughter, and Amethyst, his diga-dear queen. Oh. Oh... then Bullwort...

Placing a hand on my best friend, I sort of push him back so I can run off and grab the chairs on my own—three, one for Sauhead one for diga-Dino one for me—and I at least have three seconds of peace in my own mind, on my own, even if it's just for a moment. With him in this state, even though I diga-do want to help him all the time, the pressure and pain it pushes on top of me isn't something I ever escape and soon find these little seconds almost precious.

On my own, I suddenly remember.

 _Wait. Foster. What diga-did you diga-do with Bomba, digadig._

 _She's the thing I covered. She ran off at some point muttering 'Morie, Morie,' so that's why I know everything is okay._

I'm almost put into shock, the fact that the answer isn't vague at all. It's just completely not something he'd diga-do. Blinking a little strangely into the back of my head, I rush on back before questions happen and searching happens and I'm not alone anymore. It's nice, sometimes; I never thought it would come to this, that loneliness would be nice. It's... hard, with him in this pain. It effects me and everyone else, and it's hard.

Cushioned, tidy chairs sprawled in my arms, I toss them all and we sit, shifting into the least awkward position we can manage, so that diga-Dino's next to the window too, and I'm sort of in the middle and thank gosh big ol' Saurhead goes beside Bullwort because as sweet as he looks like he's come, I feel better to not be right there next to him. The faint whiff of gingerbread wafts against me, sitting this close, not to Saurhead, but his brother. He really has changed from the guy I thought was crazy and uncool. The sweater's a little weird, but it... it's still cool.

Already I'm squirming around in my chair and my chocolate toes become the absolute center of my attention. Yeah... I'm embarrassed. And I feel awkward. And I diga-dunno what to say, what to diga-do. Diga-Dino's... kinda better at conversation. I was never exactly a natural. It's a lot easier to yell, though, like when I get mad, but I diga-don't know much besides him. So I stick by him. And I've learned from him. Glancing awkwardly beneath bangs, I wonder if he'll say anything. Ask something.

Already he diga-does. "Uh... don't they, like, serve carrot sandwiches here or something..?" I diga-don't remember where he might've heard it, but... I think they diga-do. It's a food source. We diga-don't really need food that much, but sometimes it's kinda nice and it helps and junk. And I think they had that... and apparently coffee. Along with the aromatic stench of gingerbread, faintly I can smell the seep of strong, silky coffee, which they've always had around here, and even fainter, the crisp scent of... that has to be vegetables. Somewhere.

"Yeah. They do." Very fast about his answers, though his voice, slurred and soft, comes out slowly. His diga-dark and small orbs watch over our odd group. Can't say I blame him. I wonder if it's nice to have new visitors alongside his crazy loyal brother; I wonder if others visit him too. When things were just happening and he was still sorta recovering from it all, I diga-doubt others were allowed in as much, but it's gotten better. I focus back in on Bullwort. "But at the same time... they're sort of... special. Add different things to them. It's never just carrots and bread or anything. And... they always have coffee. It's a nice, good coffee. Real good coffee." He'd know; he's been here a long time, more than just staying here.

Since he looks, while sorta sad, also stronger, I wonder if he'll leave soon. Go out into the world again. Would it.. be scary, at all, to diga-do that? Is it a scary feeling to go out again and be accompanied by others? Since he'll be healed, it might not be too bad blending back in, but... it might feel sort of scary to leave this place. Maybe he'll, not like as chief or anything, resume working here like he diga-did prior... before all the BB Boss stuff and even throughout that. Bartholomew Bullwort Bandits...

Quietly, out pours another little stream of a question, to be met by Bullwort's big, calm swoon of a lake. "Did you know Rex and the others before everything..?"

"Urr... not really. Vivian was a friend... Snivels was Vivian's friend, as was Rex. They all... sort of came in at the same time and were there. It just... expanded and... well, as you can tell, spiraled out of control. But it was nice, to have them watching over me anyways, as hard and awkward of a job it must've been. Ha!" His laugh, short and stout, brings back memories. "I heard they got punished some. Had to do what Diggins told them for a month or two? But it must've become obvious, at some point, what their true colors were." His eyes shift as he speaks, not really in an alarming way, but I just feel those beady orbs over me, then they flicker to one side, and I bet they're on Saurhead, on diga-Dino, sort of revolving around us. Sometimes I sneak glances now. In little intervals.

While he hasn't said much, Saurhead's still there. Always there for him. Like I am for... for diga-Dino. Wow. It reminds me of his diga-dad, who had no one for awhile, no Amethyst, no diga-Dino, no diga-Dina, who's still missing. Wrapped up in thoughts like those, I can't help but shiver on the inside. It sounds... horrible, bleak, empty, lost, cold, terrifying, lonely, confusing, horrible, horrible horrible horrible. I'm surprised he never actually went crazy and acted on it much more than what diga-did happen. Just him in pain and Raptin's diga-dumb suggestion to kill off all the humans and diga-Duna lost and confused, a little alone as well.

The only diga-difference being that Bullwort acted on it...

Bullwort's head, a flicker of tan blur, nods toward his masked brother. "Bennethimer"—holy turd that's his name, Bennethimer, and while it must be weird to let us hear it he diga-doesn't say so—"what do you think about all of this?" He's quiet; then, "I know I've asked it before, many times, but I like to hear your answer. Can you tell me again?" It's silent, but he seems to not care that we're here again. I mean, we're just Jkonna and diga-Dino. So... it's okay, I'm guessing, anyways.

"Of course." And it is okay. He diga-didn't even hesitate, but he diga-does now. I get this sudden shrill feeling to slide diga-down my spine and shiver through my arms: he probably takes off his mask when it's just them, brothers, Bennethimer and Bartholomew, but he can't now because we're here: alone, to reveal his name, it must feel weird. "I think that your reaction makes sense after what happened, since you're not the only one to ever show it. And she was a wonderful lady, and she still loves you, and I still love you, and wherever Lester's gone, he loves you too, and he's waiting for that day, just as you are, for when you meet again." It diga-drawls out, but it's obvious in the air how much his younger brother likes to hear that from him, just what he thinks.

And it's true. Diga-did diga-Dynal not go through the same process? It's obvious he still has all those people to love him. It's obvious he will have them always, as we all have those people. They'd be happy, when the one they hold diga-dear who has become weak to begin to feel better again. It reminds me, then, of Foster, and the girl who was with him in the memory looping around in his brain, the moment that means so much to him.

"What happened?" It's out; breathlessly, it's out. Diga-Dino's asked it. I knew he would; he keeps wanting to hear stories, listen to others; and there it is.

"'What happened?'" It's almost barked right back. Almost. He's got this strange aura fixated on him, and it stays with him, no matter the question my nosy best friend asks. And even though I nearly diga-didn't think it possible, Bartholomew slows himself, a little forcefully, his eyes flickering like little black diga-dots on a vivosaur, scales that shift, like diga-Dino's. All is soundless but for the soft, gentle lyrics of some song hanging in the background: one I hadn't noticed until now. My eyes restlessly flicker that way, though nothing changes; it diga-doesn't go, the noise now stamped in the back of my head. But Bullwort's louder, bolstered, and attention automatically shifts toward him. "Well... a lot of things happened."

Softer again. This... new Bullwort. Or the old one, the one before whatever these soon-to-be-unwrapped events happened and changed him, changed him a whole lot. His voice low and soft, he hunches over, like what he's about to tell us is the biggest secret in the entire world: "Her name was Daffodil." I stop; "was Daffodil." I know what a "was" means. Mom "was" alive; diga-Dad "was" alive. I know what a "was" means.

"She was very active, but very small, and she liked moving around, for no other reasons than the sun on her back and the warmth she felt inside of her when she moved. She liked me and she liked Bennethimer too because she liked bigger people, because she felt like they gave the best hugs." When he pauses, the world stops all movements and focuses back on him. My heart's thumping betwixt my lungs and it's running out of space. I feel it crash against its limited area and try to get more but it can't and its swelling has to stop but it can't diga-do that either. "And she...

"She liked soft words. She liked Slick..."

Confused, diga-Dino's eyes find mine and he mouths, "Salto." He has a salto. Huge vivosaur, like Pippy, but blue, rock-like gray-and-black mountains on his back. Slick. Slick the salto.

"She liked a lot of things. But most of those things only had to do with my brother, or with me." Glancing a little sidelong, he mutters, "I'm not the only one who's seen his face." Oh man. I'm not sure whether I expected that sort of a response or not, though... I can see where the trust might come from. How much... uh... Saurhead—no way am I using his real name again—must like his brother, of course he seems to've grown close to... uh... his brother's... late wife...

Is that what caused it, then? I... think it is. Late wife. That's why the change and the pain happened.

Late wife.

Diga-dead wife.

From these scraps of a personality, from what I've heard from her husband, I'd guess that while diga-Daffodil was active and bright to others, and she liked those sorts of warm feelings, she also diga-didn't like a... a lot of things. I diga-don't know what that might mean... maybe she just had stuff she was scared of and diga-didn't want to face. Whatever the cause, Bullwort never elaborates on it, and thankfully, diga-Dino diga-doesn't ask. "As a child, we never knew much more than our vivosaur farm... and our neighbors. Morn was our neighbor. Morn Nosh. She... owns the orphanage now, or so I heard. But she and I, and Bennethimer, we'd grown up together... it was only later when we met Daffodil."

The glazed stare in my best friend's gaze and the new frozen plot in his movements reveals how much that effected him. Morn Nosh... Nosh... wasn't she, like, the lady he'd lived under for a time? And I think he diga-described her as aggravatingly nice, but she'd get annoyed but never diga-did much about it if he messed up and he messed up a lot. And apparently girls were never there. Somehow, I can't imagine him living at an orphanage; maybe it's because he actually diga-does have a diga-dad. But still. He knew her. It's gotta be weird to hear more about a life he lived so near to but ever was able to know about.

As if he's able to see just how much focus I've lost, a slimy, wet voice burbles in my head. _Hey, Jkonna. How do you feel, hearing about all of this and thinking about how natural their lives were before it happened? Is it hard?_ Silently I glower back at his diga-dull eyes. _How different they were before things happened, and how different they'll be if they never have the chance to heal. To be, or not to be..._

He's linking things in my head, right in front of me. Thoughts I can't quite see hide just at the edge of my vision, the blurry ink of orange on fins easy enough to tell, but the rest of it fuzzy. More than one futabi; more than one Foster. When I glance back toward the stout once-police captain, and his own hunched and pained position, and I wonder how similar he and my own best friend might be, and all of that Foster's mentioned: it's a little scary.

I think I missed diga-descriptions on vivosaurs and more of diga-Daffodil's quirks, but maybe not so much. Bullwort's speech is slowing diga-down. His train of thought is chugging and losing some internal battle. "...and she and her vivosaurs... never sports, but she did garden. Little things like that. Cute little things like that... It was weird at first, when we were all so much older, that suddenly another kid our age'd showed up, but of course we welcomed her. She stayed with Morn. Hadn't... questioned it, then. Still won't question for it. She had no family to stay with and that was all.

"Nothing can take her away from me... no sparks or anything can... take her from me... even as her memory tries to fade... and she leaves this world... I'll never forget..." It reminds me, in a morbid sort of way, of diga-Dino. It's not like I could forget him, too, if... if... My gaze, foggy and unsteady, hard to focusing, fails to glance back up again.

Still I catch his shift in posture again. His voice has become steadily louder. It's not like he's convincing himself, though; maybe a small part of him was scared, when whatever happened diga-did. That they would all forget her. That he might be alone and useless and forgotten. It's funny how things work. I remember now that Lester must've thought similar, too, when he ran from Saurhead's grasp. Maybe he just has this uncanny ability to accidentally make others think he forgot about them.

If that's true, any showing of it has altogether vanished. We all know how much Bullwort's being visited now.

Stronger, "It was something she didn't like. Of course it was. We never much knew about her past, just that being alone meant she'd have to live with Morn back then, before we were married and before I swore I'd protect her from everything. Everything that scared her and made it hard to go on... I'd keep her safe." I know where this is going. "I told her... and I was always there..." And then I wasn't able to keep her safe. "And then... I wasn't... I wasn't able to keep her safe." A hysterical laugh bubbles within me; Foster pops it.

"It's a horrible feeling to lose someone who you swore you'd protect with every part of your being. Who you loved. And when it was something you couldn't have protected them from... because it was going to get them, no matter how perfect you, or anyone, were... It's not exactly the most calming sentiment to have in you. But if the ancients had found her... back before she found us... and they didn't let go... It's... well..." Oh. Oh... I can't help but be reminded of diga-Dynal, and how he always avoids the talk about what happened to Amethyst, just that she's gone. I think diga-Dino knows, though, or he has a feeling. Whenever the conversation strays that close, his shape just flops all the worse, like he's clay and his diga-dead mom just...

No, I diga-don't like to think about it. About losing life. It's a sucky thing. But there's nice things, too, that we have others to hang onto, even when it's hard, and that fossil fighters, all of us, have strong bodies as it is, or else we wouldn't be with vivosaurs and junk, would we? But it's hard sometimes...

Because we diga-don't really know what to say after that, and it's obvious he's at the end of his line and diga-doesn't wanna end the story, we sit there, all of us, silently. Ancients. There's a reason I diga-don't like them. I guess the reasons keep growing now. There's more to feel diga-disgusted by them. My eyes form little icy slits and peer over my nose but under the window. Diga-Dino must be strong, if he still wants Iggy, and he still tries to cheer that lump of sadistic coal up. Even throughout all that he's going through now, that I'm... I'm helping him with. Glancing over—oh.

Yeah, he's tuckered out. Head diga-drooping. Spines of fluffy orange and black mingling together and looking like a sort of flame puke right on top of him. His body shudders sometimes, and he shakes just on his own, his silvery eyes wide and bright but that's because he's trying to keep himself from the sleep his body so diga-demands. I poke at him; he tries to poke back. We should go soon... leave this moment in its solemn diga-darkness of night.

Not really sure what to say, I bob my head towards the brothers and Saurhead, I think catching my eye, even with those plastic brown ones, seems to understand. Heck, diga-Dino's half leaning on me, and that's only after I diga-dragged him out of the chair. With a nod, he sends us off, and when I try to gather those chairs he shakes his head in a slight motion that shows he'll take care of it and we should find a bed before the ground becomes high enough of an expectation. Nice of him.

We stumble and stutter and move through thick, clawing shadows that make me feel like our progress is ever the slower, as we go. His vivosaurs fell asleep, Foster's on the verge of rambunctious snoring—I beg of him to please wait until I fall asleep first like he usually diga-does—and if we're not fast enough the ground will become a priority and the softest bed around.

As we move and I more tug than anything else, his eyes light up like the moon and I smile up at what we're seeing, about how bright it is. My hair's lit as if on fire, orbs and the marks on my cheeks icy and light, so even with my shadowy skin I have my eyes and my hair to show exactly how I feel. Glancing upwards, I catch a rosy light shining out from a window in that castle of a building, and I wonder if it's still hard for her to lay her head at night so she's watching us now. Watching over us, maybe even.

A wave of guilt swoons through me, but I diga-duck and diga-don't diga-dare to look up again until we make it into the safe and warm and loving confines of the Fossil Center.

 **Me: ewe Yeah, she's still around. Of course she is. She's probably the hardest person to get out of this story.**

 **Rosie: x_x**

 **Jkonna: =w=**

 **Dino: …**


	17. The Best Buddy Brigade

**Me: Like I said, here's the special chapter.. x3 I feel so dumb to reveal it now but there you go.**

 **Rosie: -ears perk- Special?  
**

 **Jkonna: GO HOME**

 **Dino: ;w;**

 **Rosie: I'M SPECIAL, AREN'T I?**

 **Dino: ;;;;;;;;;w;;;;;;;;;;**

 **Me: bad idea bad idea -evacuates-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 17: The Best Buddy Brigade

 _BareBones_

Casually, his hand flickers up to his face and the squishy, white fingers plod through his coarse and painstakingly bright hair, the flashing colors of grass under too much sunlight. Like tanning grass. Like grass off on a vacation for some nice, lively beach. Like grass strands of utter brightness perfectly combed into a mohawk slick and tall up on top of his egg of a head, his listless, gooey eyes inked in black and staring over his round nose: almost like he thinks he's better than everyone. And honestly, he probably does.

His other hand of chubby rounds folds up with the first and he glares once more over his nonthreatening nose. "Harrumph." It almost— _alllllmost—_ makes him sound pretty slick and pretty scary. Of course, the people in front of him would find him anything but scary, but that's because they're dumb and that's just who they are. He itches his showing and flabby stomach in trepidation as the other two just-as-pale pearls staring at him narrow their eyes in perfect unison like the power couple they are.

Lester burps rather loudly to acknowledge such a thing.

Lola's nose folds up on itself and her tiny, orange eyebrows scrunch. She's almost scary sometimes, but she's not as evil as Lester can be—or, well, pretends he can be. Although chokers make up his wrists and neck, the spikes can't work his squishy body into any old fierce shape. His shirt, marked by a skull, can't disguise his childishly tubby self, or half of his stomach. His black shorts are just black shorts so it's not like they're helping either. But he can pretend, and he sure feels like he's harnessing a true evil.

Which is completely opposite to who he is in the first place. A hero, sort of, since he was on the side opposite of Zongazonga the entire time that whole "possession" and "ancients" thingy occurred. As in Joe Wildwest. As in good guys. Not that he knew at the time.

"Uuuuhhgh, stooooooop it Leeeeeesssssteeeerrr," moans Lola prettily. Her short stuff brings her just short of Lester's tubby chin, not including the scary ringlets of hers pinned up by some skull accessory. Her matching black-and-white shirt-and-skirt style of clothes only further manages to peeve him. What is it with girls, anyways? Why all that pattern? Why so much eyeball-searing combinations that must look like "perfect together" or whatever? Glaring, like she can read his mind, Lola's lips perch. "You're reeeaaaaaaallllly not doing very well at, like, allllll, at provoking fear, so just. like stop? We're, like, visiting him, and you caaaaaaan't stop us."

Like the unofficial bodyguard he can't even match up to, taller and lankier Cole raises a hand and plops it a little fearfully on his girlfriend's tiny shoulder. His hair, in styled spines of black, a red line smashing through one side like he's crazy, sticks up a little more when Lester's gaze lumbers all sleepy upon him. His own makeup only smears some creepy black star over the lid and around one clear-blue eye, and his strange, glossy white jacket, not to mention the layered pants, only further confuse poor, stupid Lester. He doesn't really care about clothes all too much so this always takes him by surprise, the superiority and painful matching of the power couple of Cole and Lola.

Even though he's supposed to be his bro, of course Cole takes that stupid redhead's side. "C'mon, Lester, he's devastated..." And off his eyes go into some other dimension. Staring at everywhere but Lester's scrunched and very, very, very annoyed face: it's taken fire now. Oh it's on. "Lester! Freaking—jeez! Ryne isn't a bad guy! He's been following us this entire time and you know it and he's a part of us and he's my best friend too and it's a miracle nobody but Joe ever saw him!" Lester snorts as his mohawk threatens to tip. He tries to make a fake show out of his other hand raising and clapping that dumb green wave back into place. Man, Ryne took all his good hair equipment when he ran off: why'd he have to do that? Oh yeah, Lester yelled at him for being stupid.

But it's his fault for being stupid! Lester gets mad at stupid people for being so shamefully stupid, so really, it's not his fault at all! Gosh gosh gosh gosh gosh. His dark eyes penetrate though Cole's hair, still perfect because Ryne likes him more than everyone else and it is really freakin' obvious. Why is it so hard to find a kid wearing all pink anyways? It's freaking _pink!_ Oh yeah; he's been arguing and refusing to continue moving.

With an angry and sad huff, knowing it's too late to get his way this time, Lester prowls onward, half sagging in his motions. Cole makes an odd, jerking noise under his lip and gives the guy a stern look as one of his slender hands raise and cut over his throat like Lester's attitude is killing him, and then faces his power girlfriend and they go on too. Freakin' tiny little small Lola. Why does she have to be so... so "everything" to Cole? Guh, Lester swears he'll never get it.

 _Crrrch, chrrrrch, crrrruuuuchhh..._ Their feet bulldoze through hot wastelands of sand, gravel angry for blocking out the sun maybe. They should've at least waited until night instead of heading out for the crack of dawn, because now it's noon and pink still hasn't revealed, although that's also maybe Lester's fault because again he kept arguing and grunting over his hatred. As if to make sure he won't disappear all over again, Lola's eyes mark on him, they eerie green holding him tight and whispering rigid nothings into his ear. She's scary.

Then, just to amplify literally everything, her lips purse and a small balloon of pink swoons and _pops!_ and leaves him with that ringing noise of the bubblegum in his ear too.

She's not scary, she's a monster.

A monster that stole Cole's heart and somehow managed to fall in love with him back. Ulgh, romance.

They trek on, the three of them, together and together always, even as Lester's groans and gagging sounds persist, because they're always together and that's how they roll. Ryne was always there too, that pink-wearing ditz boy, but then again they'd had no other outfits back with the BB Brigade but the pink one so it was his fault anyways, but here they are, searching for the dumb kid. Okay, Lester just had to tell him how stupid he is. Not his fault he has to do these sorts of things.

The BareBones Brigade, created when Joe Wildwest's body was possessed by the soul of that Zongazonga ancient and he had to blunder around in his own soul without a body, held the five lackeys, the kids of the Caliosteo Islands' commanders, Stella, Terry, and Kent, Stella and Kent being like together and Terry being Stella's brother who has some wife; the three misfit, struck-upon commanders, Cole, Lester, and Lola; and then there was Ryne. Before it all had taken a new light and things were killed, blah blah blah, Lester hadn't really looked into all the details.

The creepy rocker quietly complains having to go and search for dumb Ryne under his breath until both of his friends toss him "that look" and he decides his life is safer if he shuts up. The terrain around them never fully changes, but as the tired and weak trio continues their lively stroll, the earth crushed beneath them begins to grow thicker, stronger, and colder with each step. The sun seems to grow distant the more they stepped with their backs toward it, which is extremely weird because it's the desert in the middle of the day and that's when they're all supposed to get sunburns from screaming hoarsely for "RYNE!" not watch their shadows elongate like tails and then soon the whole world darkens around them.

"Guys—?" Lester starts.

"Shuuuuuuut up, Leeeeesssster," dutifully responds Lola while Cole mutters, "Ryyyyyne..."

Maybe they have their worries, but because they're nicer and not as stupid as Lester, they care more about their missing friend than the whole world turning black and inky right in front of and around them, and as Lester protrudes a hand and stares at its shaded confines, he wonders if they're turning black too, like this is where Ryne went and now they'll all be dumb like him and even more lost.

Rocks. Lots of rocks. Really big rocks that fill up horizons, eat up the world around them. The color of crushed cocoa and smelling of rotted dreams, if that even possible, Lester's nose crushes like a thoroughly cooked tomato as his cut-green eyebrows cleave. His dark, murky eyes watch a little dully around at these rocks, and once or twice his hands reach out to touch one of those craggy walls, but every single moment like a mother or father's intuition the power couple would strike back before he found his chance. Although he guesses it doesn't matter in the end since it's just a hunk of cold dust mushed in creepy shadows anyways.

Not like Lester's scared of silence anyways. That silence with all the looming and filthy-smelling rocks where if he talks someone shushes him and his friends stay so eerily silent his bones begin to chill in their warm hollows of flesh. Not like silence is scary and that's why he's so insistent on being a rocker sort of instrument-everything dude. Not like he wants noise to fill his life or anything, whaaaat, that's, like, stupid! And Lester's not stupid at all. No way. He's, like, cool and stuff. Plus, he's way funner than everyone else and all, like, that.

Nah, the universe is just messing with him, y'know? He's all cool and awesome, of course. Uh, yeah, like, totally. He inwardly winces at how messed up that all sounds and threateningly lifts a pinkie as if to touch the formation looming and searching into his soul on his right until the thought alone of a friend silencing his wishes makes it all stop. Freakin' protecting him. Freakin' parental figures of a power couple. Freakin' romance. He slouches evermore as he moves, hands shoved deep into the depths of his black pockets, but not too deep or his chokers, the bracelets on each wrist, get caught, because that would suck, like, a lot. The small black vest supporting his sleeveless half shirt twirls and gets caught in a spike or two anyways, and he spends fretful seconds un, like, sticking them.

Because he thinks he's still cool, Lester smirks at the sight a little heavily as his flab wriggles around such a disturbing wave of lip-momentum.

Ugh. It feels so awkwardly, lopsidedly lonely in his head right now, more so than the newfangled tipping of his mohawk. His freakin' boneysaurs aren't with him, plain as night, and the others don't have theirs either for being so stupid and worried about Ryne. See, Lester woke up and, immediately, he had this whole plan for what he wanted to do with his life that day. The sound of webbed cracking had woken him, sometimes a sort of alarm clock when it happens often enough, and he just knew by then. Torn, that dimetro of Dina's, they all live in the penthouse with Joe of course and freakin' Torn is such a hothead: keeps cussing and even though he locked Dina up somewhere out of spite for Rupert taking over her heart or whatever, well, Rupert got all worried and had to like save her, but this took three days and then Torn got freakin' mad, and by now Joe has the window-repair-dudes on speed-ptera-call-thingy.

How he puts up with it so often Lester has not a clue. He must really love Dina and Torn and he guesses Rupert too or one of them would've been separated. See, if Joe was Lester, Lester would've just capsized them all and laughed his butt off watching them.

So anyways, when the windows need repairing, Lester's day immediately reforms into watching said windows be repaired because it's the funniest thing in the whole world watching two dummies argue around a sheet of glass as Torn threatens to break more windows, waggling his heated claws around like crazy. And he'll just sit, and watch, and laugh, and it is so great, but then Ryne happened and yelling happened and ugh, stupid Ryne and following him around and the power couple being too fretful to care about anything like their poor boneysaurs, at the very least.

Angrily sighing between crossed eyes, his arms do the same and he groans very loudly, green wave of hair nearly being topped off by some overhang. Which makes him yelp and understand why no one warned him and no one chastised him. Stupid friends being smarter than him.

Finally, they draw into a plummeting temperature so insane that for the first time in his life Lester wishes he hadn't worn half a shirt. His stomach flab chills when the breath of the wind buffets him, and his cheeks swell like embarrassing cherries; his hands scrabble through the air like he can touch it to move as he tries to follow his friends' lead in the swooning black. He's used to black: it's their style, it's their soul, it was their BareBones Brigade base until they became good guys and Joe was returned and everything. All that good stuff. But this black, and such a black shade of black, this is not something he ever wants to see worn by him ever again. It's like a choking cloak of colorless, like, death.

Finally the structure that must be the source of all evil looms ahead of them, only it's not ahead but far below in a freakish cavity of a canyon. If he were to accidentally push Lola down, there's no way she'd come back up. He'd never have to hear her bubblegum-popping monstrosity again. Yeah but he'd miss her. He can be friends with monsters! Stop judging!

"Like, look, I think I see a... like, vaaaalleeeey? Whoaaaaa, maaaan. It's, like, a huuuuuuge valleeeeey!" Chill but snooty just to the right degree, Lola's hip juts out to make room for one hand as she glares toward the earth in front of her. "It all, like, chips up here? Ewwwww, it's like teeeeeth. Like, like those denture shark thingies you were talkin' of, Lester, or whatever? Like, right here, right here..." She draws off, her hand sliding off of the comfy spot of her skirt she'd been perched so nicely. Like she practiced to make sure it was perfect.

As her hand falls, Cole's awkwardly larger one cups to accept it. Lester swears he's seen that so many times he just knew it was coming. Pale on pale, small under large, rings and jewelry and skin mushing together all in one mesh of power couple. His other hand waves over his spikes; like just making sure they're still perfect. Lola's mimics him to her own hair. Always the hair. Suddenly self-conscious as he shuffles up to Cole's absent right, Lester's chubby fingers pat on his rather intact mohawk, if he did say so himself. Man, the others must be so proud of him to manage this long with cheap gel.

Their hands fall in a birdlike, feathery sort of fashion. And now he takes real note. Sticking out his head and glaring under his flashy red glasses, Cole sputters, "Whoa! Why—why is that so huge! That's creepy! Urgh, Lester, do something!"

"Uh..." He snorts. "What now? What am I... like... how does that..." He nervously tugs at his chokers. A thumb splinters on a spike and it soon goes in his mouth as he mumbles "ow" over and over again.

Those mystical green eyes of Lola's—he just knows they're on him now. "Like, I dunno! Check it ooooouuuut, I guess..? Whatever. Doooo something, like... You got us, like, into this hooot mess, sooooo please and, like, thaaaaaaank you, like, doooo something for the love of your... uh... dumb... self?" Under those orbs... but...well... come on... It's Lola, so he'd better. As friendly she can be sometimes, she also sometimes expects him to do junk for her. Not like he's her special pet andrarch that wags his tail and does, like, flips all around that tiny, orange-haired frame, but this...

Yeah. Ow. Cold eyes. Furrowed brows. Lester scurries his tubby self a little freakishly towards the distance, nearly tripping and landing himself inside of that valley until tennis shoes balance his otherwise gaudy and gigantic feet to safety again. Scooting back, he kneels over, and it's here of all times that he feels the terrifyingly cold shiver of _glop_ running down his spine because his hair gel is coming apart on him.

Outside of all that weird powdery stuff, which he debates must either be cloud babies or perhaps snow, which would explain all the frigid whiteness, there's a couple shaggy trees and lots of craggy coasts. And that.. that thing... the huge thing swamping around the middle... Oh gosh, was it carved into the rock or something because that is massive and chilly looking and it's drowning, drowning in precious medals. Tiny dots of colorful thingies float around the place like banners or like tapestries, if that's the fancy version. It looks like this calls for the fancy version.

Squinting a little angrily, he detects that these aren't the only colorful dots. Three. There's three moving targets and two are topped in blue. One shockingly grassy green, his entire attire a hideous, bright pink that would suit cutesy girls not that poor—stupid, no, stupid—boy.

Lester considers telling the others he found what they came for but decides it's funner to wait and keep the secret to himself a little longer. Just because. His position so perfect for where he is, the wind hurtling straight for him, somehow he manages to snatch little strands of dialogue.

"Oh, sir, I'm afraid our kind and lovely king Lester is about to arrive!"

"Dear me, is he? How exciting!"

"I LIKE TACOS."

No wait that was just him pretending he heard because Ryne never liked tacos, just Lester, but Ryne totally should like tacos, that dummy. No, it's not the part about king Lester that's off.

As he shakes in place, either under his annoyance of having natural instead of supernatural hearing or the fact that he's been laying on top of permafrost for a few minutes now, Lester begins to realize that just because he sees Ryne doesn't mean Ryne is, like, completely stupid. He feels the searing pinpoints of eyeballs from below puncturing into them and glares in just the slightest of offhand fierceness back, happy to see that someone or another flinched at the effort. Yes, very happy indeed at that part.

But he doesn't need to be happy. It's only expected. Lester attempts to shake the shaggy entrails of sagging, dripping, cheap-hair-spray-leaked fronds from his round and pudgy cheeks, only to find that the rest of his skeletal mohawk has frozen over and so have the vast majority of his lost looks. He snarls at that. Teeth gritting. Almost gnawing at his lip only wait he tried some new fancy glossy lip balm today and if he bites it he'll smear it. Very happy to note that this as well causes the three dots of humans to skitter around the place as well.

Of course, it's just as easily possible that they can't feel his looks at all and are only acting weird because of Ryne or something, Ryne alone in all of his backwash of glory. One of the tiny perpetrators in the gigantic valley thingy pops off to the further left, into a shadowing, hulking thingy whose shine makes him wonder how much rock it is and how much something impossibly expensive. The others follow soon. _Including_ Ryne. How filthy. His nose flicks at that; in one big swooping motion, Lester summons himself from his position and scuttles back to his friends. Now he'll report. The people stopped being interesting.

While a great amass of twinkly light stuff floats in from the valley, not enough lights whatever emotions swim over his friends' faces. Pale skin, pristine and simple, watches back at his own. Their murkier orbs pinpoint his without burning him like those other pairs did, because they're his friends so their daggers are sheathed. He thinks. Awkwardly tucking his chubby hands behind his half-covered back, dripping eyes of brightness once inlaid with mascara, dripping mascara, stare back. "Uh. So." It's a start, he supposes. It's... a start. Clearing his throat, Lester flickers his eyelashes and mutters in a much less sure voice, "Ryne did happen to be in the valley thing but now he's in what looks like a helicopter and they're floating away."

"'Theeeeey?'" airily quotes Lola. Her hands raise, their little and perfectly gloved tips iced in white. Her lips purse again as she smirks toward her friend.

Cole tries to say something but fails at wording. Which is funny. So Lester laughs and so does Lola.

He squeezes it in now before the mood is forcibly broken like a chair-to-the-head situation: "Yeah, like, two blueberry boys. Brothers, maybe? But it's freakin' hard to tell since that gap is so huge." Now that he thinks about it, he wonders why such a large valley would support such lighting all the way to the top. He mentally crosses off whatever simple items he thought may be the foundation of that mansion thingy partially carved in stone because whatever the heck gave birth to that monstrosity used shiny things with such glimmer that he can't comprehend its lightness, only that an entire, ghastly chasm is now as light as everything else around here is dark. Is it a happy place? Ha, no idea. The way it's been suggested makes it sound... hap—no, it's twisted. Creepy. Big bright mansion, hulking huge mansion, in the middle of a swamp of inky black. Freaaaaaakshoowwwww.

"And, like, you say the gap is, like, soooooo 'huuuuuge' but you still... saaaaaaw them?" She's not actually interrogating or acting all scary anymore; she's somewhat more than mildly curious.

"Yeah. Like... it was bright in there, too." He stares at his large black-and-white shoes, having no other explanation for it.

Lola pauses again, deliberating. Her murky depths of green eyes sift through all that she heard. "Hmmmm. Maybe, then, like, I should toooootally check it ooouut?" Her bright hair in its elaborate skull of a pin bobbles at the possibility.

A squeal. "YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE CLOSER TO THAT LEDGE THAN WHERE YOU ARE NOW!" Lester can't really tell, but the sudden flashing of an impeccable coat, the arms of the coat, wrapping tight over the tiny girl, possibly suggests who said that and why. Psh. Power couples. So weird.

"Liiike, I was kiddiiiiiiiiiing! I'm not Lesteeerr..." She pouts silently at he thought and Lester feels rather hurt by this.

Therefore his gritty tone must raise. "Heeey! Freakin'—what's that supposed to mean?"

A snort. "Like, I'm totally not you."

"Yeah, so? What's wrong with me!"

"You're a dude, for starters."

"So is Cole!"

"But you're, like, noooot Cole?"

"But you're not Cole either!"

In response she quickly disposes of the conversation by doing a thing that involves her going silent and leaning so closely to Cole's cheek that their pudgy friend feels like they just touched.

Before Lester is allowed the capability of displaying his disgust like he always does and is expected to, a splitting squeal of a noise chops straight through the air. Whining, it just might bypass by rendering the sounds of Lester's growling tummy useless.

 _WHEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR_

Some voice or another tries to cut through it many times, and by the end of it the mohawk boy has not a clue which of the three of them had done it: that overpowering stench of a sound it just too much. It blots out everything. Feeling. Motion. Noise. Sense. The brain. Oh, and the sun, if it like could.

Such an earsplitting noise shouldn't be allowed because when it suddenly hushes and that hulking, shiny mass has landed and silenced and it's just there, staring at them, the horrid, lurching feeling afterword is far worse than what he ever could've imagined. Lester stares and mumbles to himself very stupidly as he watches and feels this shrill from somewhere deep inside of him, one colder than the ground he stands on and the air he breathes in and the feeling within his skin of everything being frozen alive.

How very nervous.

Loud, kicking motions sound after that, like those of people trying to escape that huge, capsized machinery, until those faces and then bodies assemble in front of the three, much larger than tiny little dots whence in real life form. Once in their freakin' final form. Two bluenettes and one... one green-haired dope. Dressed in all pink. Skulls decorating the front. Pink-and-white-striped socks accompanied by those tiny girls shoes covered in bows to a breaking point. And that grin. Oh, that grin. That horrible, horrible half-grin of utter joy, half of his tongue lolling out from his somewhat-tanned face pockmarked in freckles and childhood memories.

His hair swerves like a leaf out from his puffy pink cap. And oh how Lester hates it. Hates it all. So stupid.

"Urrrhh..." Surprisingly, it's one of the blue boys that speaks first and draws all the attention, including Ryne's attention, to him. This blue boy dresses a little tacitly in patches and fluffy, black pants, some slender and creamy top wrapped in black bands keeping his torso from freezing to death out here. A fluffy hat perhaps made from nomadistinian fur perches atop his spiny head, and he's the tallest of the three. Then again everyone here besides Lola is taller than Ryne, but everyone is taller than Lola, and everyone is taller than Ryne, after Lola. And the little blueberry has to be the other bluberry's little brother so...

"So, like, who are you and what are you doing here? I can't really go on a supply run with snoops all over the place. Never..." He's got a funny voice; it's almost like an overly-rehearsed accent running through similar and simpler tracks. "Never thought I'd see this happen before." It's a low, husky tone too, one somehow masked on belay for any sort of voice he... might suddenly need. Lester knows that you never know, but, like, his voice?

The shorter blueberry boy nods a whole bunch. Red like rouge rips his cheeks apart. "Yeaaah. Weeeiiiiiiird. And it's not even Din-Din or Rupy. Not that he'd ever let either of them here, but, like... Whaaaaat? Soooo weeiiiiiird."

That boy reminds him of Ryne. They're both so childish-sounding and lax and freakin' boyish. They ain't got no maturity in their veins. That one, the shorter blueberry, narrows his weirdo hazel eyes and shakes out his spikier head of hair, which shimmies around a funny, gear-like harness situated atop his head. No, not a harness... Goggles. But disproportionate, patched, and ugly goggles. Home-made goggles. Blueberry number two's goggles. He squirms in his place beneath a fluffy—how unsurprising—gold-like coat with shiny red buttons that really seem to... look like rubies. How freakin' crazy. His pants, a pouf of pants and shaped like candy-canes, sort of squirm too. Like he's really nervous about this situation and wants to go back home to the mansion thing.

But wait. That glint in that weirdo gaze: no, no, the boy's excited about something.

Just like Ryne.

Did Lester perhaps mention that he hates Ryne?

"Uuhhh, excuse us for trespassing?" Being girlish but gentlemanly at the same time, in strides the second tallest of the batch: Cole. His flashy jacket swirls around him with his breath as his glasses glint in some staring contest with the three boys. "We didn't mean to, I swear! It's just... my _friend_ over there"—pointing at Lester—"has seemed to scare off our dear friend, my dear childhood friend, Ryne, and it seems he's right here now... sooo, uhhhh... that's it? Can we take him now?"

The tallest boy shuffles forwards, but before a single word comes out that freakin' Ryne sidesteps on in, pushing both males aside. "Cooole, it wasn't Lestie, I sweaaaarrrr!" He wants to kill him he wants to kill him if he kills him it'd be bad don't kill him don't kill him. "I just wanted to explore, duh." Focus focus calm calm calm that horrible squeaky squeal is crawling up his ears and laying little eggs everywhere.

"Ah. Well then." Lola sidles up to her friend like he was never suspected of yelling at Ryne in the first place.

It's not like Lester hadn't yelled at Ryne—but then again he always does—but that Ryne's feelings haven't been charred so it's okay and he's been accepted again. Forgiveness. It's not like sugar that coats him, but it is a thing that's there. Awkwardly he raises his dripping eyes and glances a little warily over Cole's shoulder—he's not thaaaaat much shorter, not like Ryne—to catch Ryne's whole reaction. Doesn't reveal much. Tongue lolling out more than ever... Yeah he's fine. Lester's okay and all that.

He grunts when he realizes he's also shorter than the second blueberry. So he's only taller than Ryne and Lola... as usual...

A brusque and semi-awkward silence descends after Lola's drawn-out phrase. Cole slowly shakes his spiky, gelled head and peers back toward their pink-clad friend. Or just Cole's pink-clad friend. "So... uh, _why_ are you _here_? And where is Lester's hairspray, exactly?" Suddenly pairs and pairs of eyes glean upon his disgusting, cheaply-pressed head and how saggy his poor mohawk has become. The combination of condensed mascara and clumpy hair gel has left him reckless and plain gross. He's a creepy rocker, but, like, this is too much. It's all over here on out. This is just... like, bad, and gross and, like, too much. His face brightens with all these people looking at him as the cold breathes down thick and hard.

"I'unno. He run out?" A pause. A small, stick-like arm reaches for the raggedy, pink backpack Ryne always totes around, carrying Lola's bubblegum and the wrappers and some of Cole's emergency makeup and his emergency jacket and about ten trillion of Lola's accessories, maybe a pair of boots of Cole's too: but nothing of Lester's. "Oh. Righ'ere. Think his makeup's here too. And some spare clothes. And some hot dogs. I thought he wanted me to like take it for him? I'unno. Kiiiinda hard to tell with aaaaaaall the loooouuuuuuud."

Lester grunts but decides he might as well live with his new small bundle of unasked-for emergency supplies. His stomach grumbles; the tantalizing taste of fried and cooked and grilled or whatever vegetables dunked in bright scarlet ketchup and stuffed in a coat of breading sounds pretty amazing right now. Oh, that's right, they haven't eaten all day! All! day! This is horrible! This is an outrage!

In a ball of disgusting hunger chubby pale fingers tear through the straps until they come upon the neat packaging in the buns and there, preheated and everything, lay his children. A few immediately work into his mouth and oh man he's so freakin' hungry right now that feels soooooo much better. Tangent over, Lester wipes the rest of the lip balm and whatever else off his lips with a stray hand and slowly works his way back with his friends who quietly groan. He mumbles "But food" and leaves it at that.

"But why did you leave?"

Cole's always been persistent. Almost crybaby-persistent but not always.

Ryne's tiny frame pokes backward towards his blueberry buddies. "Errf. Curious." This of course leaves his childhood friend fuming in place and looking about ready to snap off that pink cap and tear it into billions of bits of confetti to litter the snowy horizon in. Because this is _such_ a celebration.

In her slow drawl, Lola _fwaps_ her hand side-to-side, _fwap-_ to- _fwap_ -to- _fwap_. "Ohh, don't, liiike, let it sit, Cole. It's aaaaall good now: we got him, and, like, Lester wasn't even a big jerk and stuff. It's more grooooooovvy than aaaaannnyything. No biiig." _Fwap-fwap-fwap._

He sighs softly. "Okay, fine. I get the whole better idea in not getting upset and stuff. Don't want to ruin my makeup or anything." Everyone has this indiscreet glance for the one who broke this rule: but it's not even his fault! It's Ryne's fault, as usual. "But, like, who are you two anyways? I don't wanna leave until I learn about that whole deal with the golden helicopter! And you both—both of you blue—blueberry boys! You owe us a ride!"

It doesn't really make sense but neither of his friends or girlfriend correct that last sentence. If they get a ride, no use complaining about it. Plus, Lester's more focusing on the cold now because his stomach has been satisfied and up next is this chill. This horrid weather that easily tore through his cheap brand of makeup and everything. He was going to spend the day watching windows get fixed; good freakin' job, Ryne.

"Uuhhh... I mean, I'll be driving over Caliosteo on my supply run." The accented and taller one raises his voice first. "And you just so happened to pay a visit to our lonely souls so I can't exactly ignore such a thing, accidental or not." Which could easily explain how Ryne got in there in the first place. "Umm... Well, my name's Favre, and that there is my little bro. He's..." His nose wrinkles all cheerful and brotherly. "Luk."

"Luck?" squeaks Cole.

Shorter blueberry steps up to the plate and offers this huge, bright smirk, puffing out his unimpressive chest. "Nuuuuuuuh-uuh! Iiit's Luk! Like 'luck,' but like, not the word. Luk. El-yu-kay. Luk."

Lester wonders if this happens often.

Shaking his head, the taller kid—Favre, right—leans back toward his golden helicopter thingy. His hat nearly pops right off and it's funny. "Uhhh... I've got a supply run to do, or the mansion might run out of this one specific and rare brand of tea and that one specific brand of cake and then the master would be... very upset with us. So I believe it'd be better if we started up soon, most preferably before his post arrival. Sooo... like, we go or we don't. I have to stop by Vivosaur Island... and drop off Luk, too, I suppose. And the three—four, four of you."

That name... wait... wait wait.. Everyone helpfully pauses when Lester's thick hand raises and swoops and stops in midair as he's thinking because he knows, _he knows_ that name. His oh so dear friends he doesn't think have ever heard of it, but Lester...

He belonged there once. Family. Family lives there still, from the rumors he's picked up around the place. A "Saurhead" staying there when not on tour... some fancy "Bartholomew Bullwort Bandits" discovered and clammed. So, like, Dad doing... better or something? He hasn't thought all that much about checking up on them... Maybe he should. It's not like he really left because he wanted to. More like problems were happening and he felt lonely and awkward and more an obstacle than a person. Is it... maybe is it better or something now? What does that mean anyways—better. Better?

"Uh..." Worriedly, chillingly cold and slenderly long hands gently tap at his friend's. The one eye traced in the black swath of makeup star squeezes shut, and soon the second follows. He mumbles a little awkwardly, "Lester? Don't, like, die on me. That would superly suck. So—hey, you... you okay, there? Y-you okay? Man, you can't leave now! Lester!" His squeaking grows a little louder with each bout until Lester raises another hand and slaps his face.

Both boys blink. "Shhhhhh." He doesn't really know where that was supposed to go and shakes out his ravaged hair. "Uhhhhh. Vivosaur Island. Like. That place. It's... my hometown. Yeah, that. Like, my hometown. My dad and my uncle live there still... and it's like..." He's no really sure how to end that part, either. Cole and Lola have families and everything, rich families who are the bane of their whole love for outfits and makeup, but not all that much other things. Except Ryne. He's heard a lot about hat boy's... interesting and very loving family. They mostly send letters twice a week but sometimes it's more like five a day.

Still, how does he express the whole familial thing to his two closest friends when they don't really get that?

"Oh... bro..." It's in a whisper, but it's a nice whisper too. Like he understands something he can't understand. "They're... like, important to you, aren't they?"

Lola's eyes bloom like sickly sweet orchids. "Aaah... that's... wow, wow, wow woooowww... we're toootally visiting right now, riiiiight?" And suddenly the buds narrow and she won't take "no" for an answer since they haven't met them and probably want to now. But his dad... well.. he's not... but... he's heard that his dad has been getting better... so... maybe it's okay?

Cole halts. "Wait. We only have emergency supplies on us. We should probably back. And, like—aaahahhhh! My poor boneysaurs! Oh, no! They've been goooooone! We neeeeeed them!" Yeah, Lester freakin' knows. He's known this entire time.

What'd his dad think if his son shows up with a bunch of bone-sown creatures he calls his own? W-well, Lester loves his boneys, so... like... if his dad doesn't like them, then... wh-whatever...

Favre's head and bright eyes lock on the trio, er, quartet since apparently they're counting Ryne, and he blinks. "Soo... are you all going to Vivosaur Island... or, what..?" His accent, whatever it is, sort of peels at the end like Lester and his friends are really making him nervous. But then again apparently he's some snazzy servant dude for some fancy mansion dude so he... doesn't really get out all that much.

"Uh, like, yeaaaaaah? We're toooooootally all going. Like, now." Lola prints up her face and yeah Lester's not getting out of this now. He rolls his eyes at the dark, cold abyss they're all surrounded by. His eyes have gotten kinda cold, glazed over or something by all this chill. H-hey, he's not crying or anything, shut up, that's all lame and junk. He's not crying. Probably. Right? Maybe it's just the mascara or something.

Blinking way more than he needs to, Lester's arms envelop the power couple quite warmly and he yawns in their faces. "I love you guuyyyyyyss..."

At some point afterword, Cole or Lola probably more Lola than Cole force him off of them. Somehow they all make it toward the bulky flying mechanism in one piece, even Ryne, even his backpack and Luk and all of the people. Once the younger blueberry has been dropped off at the estate place again, prolly to like watch over it, the older totes the others through the thick, soupy, icy air until darkness eventually does subside and through islands, over the ocean, they stop quickly at Joe's suite and the three of them, Ryne insisting he doesn't need anything, depart to grab their things and their peeved boneysaurs that were about to start looking for them. And Ryne's... salada, too, because he forgot Nimbus and Nimbus, see, she doesn't like being forgotten. Very strange vegetative boneysaur. The ride is shorter than Lester thought it'd be, but then again he hasn't made it for years and that was a long time ago at an orphanage which he hid at because he thought it was his best start. It doesn't take longer than a few days for the island to show between curtains of waves.

They thank the older boy, who smiles and nods and thanks them for the company, because apparently they don't get much. And it's good for Luk. All that.

The three of them in black-and-white and colored hair and particularly ripe choices for makeup, followed by the boy in pink, find themselves eventually on a grainy and winding path. It leads toward a chunky person who strangely holds similarities in body shape to their chubby member, despite the clay skin and green, plastic mask on his head.

Saurhead allows them to follow him, because he recognizes the chubby one and knows where he relates. It's into a small and warm chamber that the band of people goes, inside a smaller room where a large and even more similar dad sleeps quietly, head tipped back just the slightest. The boy's hair always resembled his uncle's more than everyone else's, but of course nobody knows that except for his father and him and the three children that follow.

His dad won't recognize him yet as he slumbers, but he feels like he'll like him and he'll recognize him all the same when it happens in good time. So he sits and peacefully rests with the other black-and-white people and even the pink one, and they wait.

There is a peace like no other that resonates in the little but warm chamber.

 **Mmm... sleepy, eheh... It has been a loooong week. XD**

 **But I finished! Yay!**

 **Actually, since we have a three-day-weekend... I was thinking that I could make a second chapter too, but this weekend though... I'll just see if I can get a lot done in it and then... finish it early this week, maybe, and then get another done by the end of this next week?**

 **Haaa we'll see.**  
 **Thank you!**


	18. Ja: My Bea Won't Marry Jolly St NickNack

**Jkonna: Now we're back with me.**

 **Me: Darn. I was finally starting to get used to using words that start with d again. Now I have to go back to being all special-proportions again because if I mess up then a bunch of d words will be everywhere and all of it is like DIGA DIGA DIGA DIGA DIGA**

 **Jkonna: owo Bro. Calm diga-dow-**

 **Me: aaaaaahhhhhh -collapses-**

 **Jkonna: -backs away-**

 **Morie: -Oh dear-**

 **Bliss: -AND THOU DOST HAVE-**

 **Foster: -EVERYONE SHUT UP-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 18: My Bea won't Marry Jolly St. Nick Nack

 _Jkonna_

 _Urrrr... and this is a good idea? I mean, Jkonna, don't want to burst any of your, I'm sure, um, brilliant plans, but... he has gone through a lot. Not so long ago, five days was hardly a tap into the turmoil he tried to curl up and cleanse himself from. Are you... sure this is the path you want to take?_ Her bill, vibrant and fiery, making me shy back in my head every time it swings for me, leans in with each sentence. Morie knows what she's talking about, and she knows what she's diga-doing, but maybe I know, too, okay? Maybe I'm not... like, all that stupid and junk... Plus... well..

 _Heeey, he wanted me to diga-do this first anyways, digadig! He was the one complaining so much about this whole diga idea! So can I just... Morie, you're all motherly, but you're my mom, not diga-Dino's. Well, my mom more than anyone else's. Gosh, I have three moms, diga, and then, like, diga, two diga-dads... and then Foster..._

Such a party. Such a creepy, long, overdone party. If I was cooking and my life was this soup, the conglomeration of tastes and spices and vegetables would be too much for me to take in. Thus why I walk through life blindly.

Squeaking and thinking like it's true, because she's Bomba, the burnt-red u-raptor scuttles up in my head too, her bright blue-tipped feathers and patterns of tattoos like big warning signs for my life. She mutters as she runs, _Don't be bliiiiiiind! I dunno all that many blind people, but I know ooooone and she's scaaaaawwweeeeeyyyyy!_ Cowering, Bomba's body hurtles into Morie's and they become a frig-mas party of mashing colors and scales.

Seeing the diga-definition of happiness and love right before his eyes, Foster pules. _Aaah, make this noise stoooooop. It's hoooorrriibleeeeeeee..._ He shudders a lot and his fins putter around in place and it's almost sad, the way he flips out. His futabi orange colors mash horribly when he accidentally slams into the formation of raptors and then proceeds to body slam on top of them like the worst king in the whole universe. Obviously the most inimical jerk I've ever seen to king diga-Dynal, the great diga-dad almighty. The best diga-dad: next to diga-Doug diga-Diggins, of course.

Bliss diga-doesn't move all that much. I think she's confused again.

My brown foot diga-drags over the tiny welcome mat plastered upon the tiny diga-doorway into the Hotel, and I continue diga-doing that for a little longer as I try to think. One hand's wrapped around the half-sagging body beside me because he's too tired to move right now and I'm the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground. Not sure if that thought brings me relief or what. That... I'm the one here. I'm... yeah... I'm like his... "guardian," I guess. I'm helping him here.

But even if I'm the one, how about him? How is he? Not so hot, if he's still leaning nigh completely on me.

A loud sob erupts from the back of my head. _AAAHHAHHHHHH! THAT BEAUTIFUL RHYME!_

A little angrily, another voice shoves over it, rolling it like a stone from my mind. _Get out of here. Freaking loud. Urgh._ Quietly I try not to show my confusion, but: Foster? Uh... okay then? Mr. Grumpy Futabi Here? Shrugging diga-dully, my icy eyes diga-dig into the welcome mat and I tug at the red berries of beads sew in and diga-dangling from my tunic: the hem, the sleeves, the neckline. My one arm, like a leash, upholds my best friend in the most suitable position I manage to force him into. Eyes diga-dance over towards one window to another. Come on... come on... I can diga-do this.

Besides, it's like I said. I'm not the one that suggested we visit the two lovesaurs next door. Diga-Dino wanted to. To visit for their party for their whole ordeal now that we know about it, now that it's been, like... confirmed. Bea and Nick Nack and marriage. Marriage... That's a much bigger word now that it's been rolled under my tongue. A big, almost scary word in a way. But right here and right now it's just nice, very... nice.

So nice that a boy diga-drowning in his although I think ebbing diga-despair wants to join in. I hope they have cake. It's not just for selfish reasons though because like diga-Dino loves cake. Because this is surely funny, the fat acro in the back of my head giggles loudly. Her rugged body, squashed up next to Foster, tells me just how much she hates this. Simply this.

"So, uh... diga-do we, like, go in? Digadig? Diga-Dino, you, uh, f-feeling it..?"

It's weird, too, that he's suddenly acting like he has feeling and control and he's tapping into the sparkly soul diga-deep within him instead of straggling on the edges. Vivosaurs parading on the edges of his head spew sound and color; they're... much more active than usual, too. It's an ugly thought, but it must be true, too, if I was... like, getting used to all that freaking sad stuff. Okay. _Okay._ No more sad stuff. He's getting better... no more sad stuff. Gah, I wish this wasn't so freaking tedious.

My one leash-like hand practically diga-drags that diga-darned boy with me as the diga-door spills right open, us entering with the sunlight on our backs. It must feel warmer for him, the ball of glistening yellow on his scaled gray back; my tunic, all scratchy, diga-doesn't soak in as much as his clothing—er scales must.

Because I can, and because each step is almost pure agony, torture and fear, because I wanna wait a little longer before completely trusting our souls into the tandem of chaos as in all the other lives out there, I take my time patrolling. White walls, a creamy white, a friendly and gentle but not harsh or ugly white welcomes us. Diga-doors leading into the elevators open upright all fancy in their wooden lining. It's all still the same. When I stop in the near-middle of the grounds, just by the tree outreaching and filling the bottom floor of the Hotel in its tree aura, and pulsate in a lungful or so of breathing, that creamy, cinnamon smell fills me. The trunk is just marinated in that turd for some reason: and it's not even cinnamon; it just has that sort of spicy sweet scent and it's so weird.

Snowballs of eyes unfurl again, only to be met by upturned stones. He never noticed the smell? He probably still diga-doesn't see it? Well then again, he is diga-Dino, so it's not like I should be surprised. He notices a couple of the little things, but only the obvious of those. Diga-dummy. Even now that freaking word diga-doesn't sound sharp, it's not flint that I've been straining just for him but a diga-dull freaking flower that I've tossed in the vain hope of stuffing life into him again. My palms press into open air, satisfyingly warm open air that stretches around my little pinkies and guards of longer or fatter fingers that protect it, the thumb a shield that wraps around them all.

I glance sideways through once-again slits and see beneath the pearly fingernail my brownie thumb on my left hand and giggle sorta hysterically, because I want to be a thumb.

When I go on moving and being normal again, diga-Dino questions nothing. His shiny enough orbs careen into me a few times, and I sure feel that impact, and the fact that he won't even say anything is just this chilling worst. It's quiet as I shove ourselves through the elevator on the diga-direct left and we go up the elevator on the diga-direct left and we leave the elevator on the diga-direct left, only for the second floor to be a mash of utter horror.

First off, someone closed all the windows and it's diga-dark. Like we just stepped into caves or fell asleep or like dig-Droplet ate both of us and forgot about it. And then, of course, the voices and the body heat showing that this entire hallway is hotter than usual, stuffed in, like, people or something. So there's that. Also something sugary. I smell that too. Oh gosh, diga-Doug isn't here yet; we should totally raid all the sweets before he diga-does show and then consumes all of them. There should be... a great amount of faces to recognize in Nick Nack and Bea's simple party. We diga-do have the same connections to the same people. Course, this island's small as it is...

And oh yes I see the glowy man and the burly one beside him hello Woolbeard and McJunker I'm just gonna steer my best friend into all the corners that you diga-don't occupy. Okay, yeah, they had good intentions and the tea was strawberry and raspberry and the tiniest diga-dip in syrup, which just tasted like a diga-dream, but they really diga-don't know how to treat a house... guest..? At the same time, none of that is true, since that's exactly what diga-Dino would expect from them on a regular basis...

I guess it's just that whole line about how none of this is a regular basis and it's like _stop torturing people who are currently tortured_ or something sadistic like that.

Oh hey I see pink let's not go there either.

The entire hallway has become this twisted battlefield pockmarked in jigsaw puzzle pieces where some spaces are safe and everything else is either missing or plain horrible. This entire quest renders diga-Dino blind because I yelled at him to close his diga-delicate eyesight and diga-Droplet attempted to lead me through a sea of people. I think we started looking for Nick Nack or something; she said she caught glimpse of a red mask so I believed her but it looks like we still diga-don't see him, so I diga-dunno now.

There is something hollow and icy on my foot what is tha—

 _Yo, yo, yo._ Very slow. Very coordinated.

Very annoyed. _WHO THE TURD ARE YOU, YOU DIGADIG?_

Silence for a moment. As expected. It's not common courtesy just to yell at vivosaurs, unless they're diga-Droplet. Then it's okay. Her and just about all our other vivosaurs, but especially, more than kronas, it has to be Iggy. Well, either way, the trunk that's connected to the earrings and freaky golden jewelry, not only gold but streaked in bright reds, blues, greens, lots of weird colors that match his wrinkly coat. Two tusks, like diga-Droplet's largest teeth were relocated into this guy's face, shine and diga-dangle with the gems. Strange little creature.

An.. an anan. Anan. The mammal with the wrinkly skin and the trunk, and the two tusks and the floppy ears, wrinkly body of putrid night blue. Only this one has at some point of his life become completely diga-decked out in color. Like he enjoys stressing his quiet presence, though the eyes tell me just what kind of otherwise he has to say for himself. Diga-Dino blindly tugs at me like an abandoned diga-Droplet and I tug back at him and he diga-doesn't _stop tugging at me._

 _So, 'eeeey there. Call'm Normanly, 'guess._ Wait. Wait...

What the heck diga-does— _Guess? 'guess? What eve—what even is that? Di-digadig, you're not even making freaking sense!_ More tugging. Much more tugging. It sorta focuses the brunt of my anger on my diga-dear best friend so I try not to let it catch me. A particularly scared tiny thing, I stare diga-down upon the glitzy anan until his height blooms just enough to make him that much taller than me. And he snorts hot air through his trunk. It flies straight up my tunic. Eeeewwww.

 _Ah guess, whaaaatevah._ I diga-don't like you. _Y'knew, I sweeaar I was jus' seein' some scoundrel who sure sure acted a whooole bunch like that buddy-bro o'yers. Sure did, she suuuuure did... funny, eh._

Blinking kinda fuzzily, I try to stare up at that aggravating little turd. Charred words tumble out at random. _Oooofff c-course you diga-did... Gah..._ Arms fold over my chest. _Wh-what diga-does that even mean, anyways? Where... wh-where were you, or whatever? I-it was probably just him anyways... diga..._ He's realized by now that I want to know why he's spewing weird nonsense. Golden orbs flicker happily.

At what? Being, like, noticed? That I care in the end? That he has some friend who—I diga-don't know. My lips mash together hopelessly and form a lightly-colored barrier, at least I hope. _I mean, yo, da' I've seen a gir' 'fore, a gir' dat actin' like'im. Back in... Ca'ost'o. Wi'Joe._

Great. You go along and have your fantasies with this Joe guy. Who, anyways? And Ca...ost...o? Y-yeaaah, g-good for you. My eyes start to stray and tug at the edges of the diga-darkness, suffocated by all this endless black and all this glittering gold in front of me, when words begin to bite into me from my side. It's diga-dull but sharp in manner, and it's probably the most motherly of the three of them.

 _Jkonna!_

 _Wh-what?_ Morie, what the heck now?

 _You let go!_

 _Of what?_

A tingling surges through my squishy brown fingers that wrap around my chest. Nails cut into my flesh in that vain attempt to keep myself from growling at everything. Random flecks of bright fiery streaks of hair diga-dapple on me wherever they diga-dapple; their brightness, and the light in my eyes and the matching light on my cheeks, of course diga-don't help in penetrating all those shadows that make even the pink in Rosie more of a quartz stone. _Jkonna! You fool!_

 _You let go of Dino's hand!_ And suddenly all the lights in my head turn right on and my fists melt into useless hands that grab at the gaping, yawning, thick diga-darkness surrounding me. A bulb of blue in the back—Woolbeard's ghost—flickers some, but diga-Dino wouldn't go that way: so where? How can that kid diga-disappear so fast—and why? Why go? I thought he—but he's been... acting s-so much better! Ugh _stupid!_ My heart races; before I start thinking a muddy slap of a hand hits the wooden wall. Nobody hears me from the blaring of voice. Only I diga-do; it's not enough.

 _whap whap whap whap whap_

"So I take it you're in a bit of a tight situation?"

 _whap whap whap whap_

"Uuhh... Yeah...?"

 _whap whap whap whap whap whap whap_

"And even through this glittery, shiny turmoil you've decided to a'frighten our presences with your showing?"

 _whap. whap whap whap. whap_

"Yeah, I came to a'brighten you. I guess..."

Wetness sneaks up into my veins and sloshes through me, slapping, slapping, squishing through and into my hands until it all diga-drains out of me and I can't hit any longer, like the whole world has gone to cushion on me, or I'm all that's left. Breath, hot, fiery, pants through my lips, through my lungs, and into the fire of my heart where it burns, a haunting sort of fuel. Thick arms ensnare me, rough, glinting in all sorts of jagged colors, tightly scooping me into her. Like she's my mom. She sure acts like one of them. Her jagged lips leer over me, all sharp and creepy, as diga-do her swirling, hazel, unreadable eyes, even now.

"Well, quite a pleasure, I must say, to see you here at all! Oh, ha ha ha! Just as Saint Nickolas Nackolus may say! Mercy bee-comb; meeerrrcy bee-comb, and a grassy-grassy new year!"

"Uh... yeah... y'got Jkonna to thank for that, though. Ha... she's been dragging me around the place like a mom or something. It's embarrassing. But I love her, y'know..."

"It is good, to have the love. In- _deeed_..." That voice... it diga-draws right off and chalks to a halt. "In...deeed..."

Diga-deciding I've been terminated, Bliss diga-drops me onto the ground and scatters back into my tunic again as her small, yellow medal permits. My bum lands just as silently as my hand had only prior, angry tears, a wide open palm on rough, almost as if salty wood. Stuttering in place, weakly tripping over there, diga-Dino must sight my limpid figure because gently rugged skin, not even but midnight scales, brush against and support me. His orange brightly stands out by my side. It's a comforting color to see on him now; the grayness in his chest is homey, reminding me of who he'll always be and that color he's always had.

We glance together and meet Nick Nack's masked face. His blonde spines of hair and creamy, sunny self watches us quietly. He's taller, a little taller than diga-Dino but by render making me super short. My flaming whips of hair bits spiral all around me and, since he's there, cover diga-Dino's shoulder and swamp most of him in utter me. Cranking a white eye, his eye-covering mask twitches fluidly with his face as he rambles on in his soft but loud and fluid, full, thick tone.

"Ahaaaa! And theeeere she iiiis! Jikaaawwnaaaah!" If diga-Dynal and Raptin float over the 'k,' Nick Nack completely makes up for it. His one hand, arm diga-draped in his usual red tunic with the feathers on the ends of it, hovers over us and casts an even bigger shadow. "Dino, you seein' this?" He blinks at that because of course he diga-doesn't see this, how could he? "Well, what a surpriiise, that you've shown up, Jkkie. How very of the pleasantries of you. Ah!" Everything goes quiet in our bubble for a moment there. My heart floats until it seizes in my throat.

Gaze lowering, if that's even possible with the mask, Nick Nack's white eyes diga-dart through the scene until he bends over and scoops up, that's right, the anan. Normanly, was it? Now starting to realize how diga-dumb of me to not see the connection before. Tons of jewelry, it's a particularly weird vivosaur, probably diga-dances in his free time: that's gotta be one of Nick Nack's. "Normanly, how very fantastic of your to join our humble group." He gently shakes at the squishy thingy until sidling him casually, one arm wrapped around the hided creature, folding him against the hip so the anan is officially stuck here. Like he recognizes this and diga-doesn't care, that bitter-water trunk raises and falls again and when air puffs out it flutters my thick brown tunic again like the rude little butt he freaking is.

Nick Nack's gaze catches our falling ones; his pink lips tug into a jolly grin. "Aaahaa! Why, as you may so see, Normanly and I had visited my old pal old buddy old friend of Joe Wildwest at some time, time ago, and... I forgot him there, it seems! Well, you certainly knows how that old saying goes: 'In with the old and out with the Normanlies,' oh dear me! I suppose Normanly's been on quiiiite the ride, haven't you? Ah!" He putters off, turns around, and shakes out his blonde spines. "If you ever get tired of all the dark, you can visit Bea over in the room; her family's, like, weird, y'know? Now to find Joooeeeeee!"

He's swooped off into the unconscious tide of that blackness. Oh, so... Joe is a guy. And that Joe guy is here. And, like, he exists? I... feel like I've heard that name from somewhere before, and maybe it's important, but... but wow, that soupy, viscous diga-darkess though.

For safe and paranoid measures my hand snaps out and tightly snags unto my best friend; this time I'll diga-do better at not letting go and everything. I feel better already. And somewhat forgiving of myself, but only somewhat.

After staring off into the void diga-dizzily for some five seconds, my best friend tugs at my arm. We shrink closer together. My hair swallows us right up, there's such an overflow of it. Not even waves but knots and tangles that tie us into one big bundled-together nexus of best friends, and everything that revolves with us. I whisper and peer to him with my chips of eyes: "So you wanna... diga, go in there?"

For some reason he diga-draws quiet. Pulls back some. Just the slightest, but I see some sorta strange flicker going on in his eyes. "Um..." No other way to put it. Might as well diga-dive right into the diga-deep and wait to see where the current takes me. "What's up, diga?"

This diga-dull stare provokes back at me. So that helps. Head held high, I slowly, in a twirling circle of endless sensation murmur not to diga-drown, not to let it diga-drown me, whatever's going on with him.

Finally, a response. The breath I diga-didn't realize I was holding in swoops up up and away from me; I breathe diga-deeply as his orbs flicker for me. "Uhhh.. I dunno... kinda... kinda wanted to meet a... couple others. N-not who you... think... or anything. They look kinda new or something? But also like... someone we should know, so..." Oh my gosh he's socializing. I try to swallow all of these messy, gooey, gloppy and confusing feelings from within and nod, up diga-down up diga-down excitement, steering him forward and allowing myself to straggle, so he can pull me this time.

I think he likes trading off. It's more... both of us, then. Of course, it's my hair that trips him, and it's my words that try to fuel him, but it's him too. It's a lot more him now. We're clouds in the sky, and I'm all those tiny white ones and he's the huff-puff-blow-it-all-over cloud that just came into town and he needs my help if we're gonna fill everything with rainwater. Well, uh, either way, no matter how badly I try to diga-describe, to put out this feeling beating in my chest, he's always there. And he knows how much I need him, too; he's seen it with his own, chipped eyes. Chipped like mine. Chipped like mine...

Because he wants to, and because suddenly this means all so much to him, I let him lead me, to pull me onward in his own diga-direction, however he feels, no matter how many loops we make or how many times I wince because we just brushed by someone I diga-dunno how comfortable he feels around. Someone who might seem sorta... scary. Thinking about faces and feelings and love and all those wonderful little things, it hits me like a hurricane that if we diga-don't hurry up diga-Doug will get here with Vivian and because she spoils him she'll let him eat all the cake. Not just the vivo-cakes. Not just those sugar marshmallow cake thingies, but them all: vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, banana, I think I saw a yogurt one, all of them: gone. Missing. Listless. Empty. I can't really have that, but the refreshments are at the other side of the hall by the covered window and we're going in every diga-direction but that.

And it looks like we diga-don't get any cake.

Diga-Dino, I thought you liked cake. Whatever. Your... happiness matters... more than... cake. I said it.

Even as we bumble into the kid, I sort of had a feeling it wouldn't be a smooth landing. We catch each other and stand and my hair trips us both up and the chub kid but that's all good. For some reason, his entire head of hair has been piled up into the center like a bridge from the entrance of his brain to his eyes or something, and those mirror-like orbs have been absolutely coated in the gothiest, gooiest of makeup I think I'll ever see in my entire life. And his stomach flaps on out, like it's waving. To what? Everything. Everyone. All the time. Free, like diga-Dino without me, or me without diga-Dino.

Okay, that kid needs a shirt, and he needs it now. Nobody summons to majestically hand him one and I want to cry it's just white mashing stomach right there in front of my face.

"Urrrrh, ya gonna stop staring at me, or you gonna keep freakin' doing what you're doing? Like, I don't got time for that? Ya dig?" Diga-do I diga-dig? Why yes: I diga-dig. It's everywhere in all honesty. Not really sure what to go on after that, I just sort of stare at the diga-dude and hope that the streaks below my eyes and my eyes themselves can freeze over that goop of a mess on the boy's face. Black... what is that? Ink? Is that ink? Who the heck wears ink and why the heck diga-does he wear it. Spluttering, I turn back as the boy in front of me answers.

In a very smooth sort of answer that completely smothers and brushes over all the issues he's been tied to for all this time. "Y'see, I don't know who the heck you are, so we should like be friends and junk." Narrowing slate eyes, that's all. The chub kid with the fat raise of green hair over his egg head puffs out his chub cheeks like he's better than us. Tied around his waist happens to be a thick, red, wooly sweater, some sort of orange thing sewed on it, but he's not wearing it but he's freaking shivering so I diga-don't get that.

And but his stomach.

Still, that boy diga-doesn't diga-do anything. I wonder if he sees me, or if I'm too cast into shadows, or diga-does he see me and he's used to them?

 _Of course he sees you._

 _GAAH!_ Our backs slam together as I spiral forward, spluttering, and diga-Dino falls back and our heads collide in an ugly grinding noise, my hair plowing everywhere like the diga-damage was actually serious, and my head turns to glare back at the thingy. It's... well, it's all black. Like a... like a krypto, like, what was her name I think Reyna, sorta. There's spots of light on the thing but it's mostly black. Weird, white shapes, almost like they're like bones or something holding a whole ton of black gunk together, needles sewing and holding this creepy boneysaur in one. One other thingy behind it's also black, but it's shorter and stouter and it's not got white in placement, but a cherry red. Its freakishly purple eyes peer toward me; I feel about ready to jump into a world of poison. Like... it's like the Trikko guy. But not quite a... tricera?

"Uuugghhh. Stupid freakin' boneysaurs. Coouuurse they're scaring everyone. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that only my dad didn't react all that much."

I want to punch that pouty chub face so badly. "Wh-what the heck? I'm just, like, surprised, you diga-dumb digadig! I-i-it's..." Slow, sinking, sifting realization sucks me into the fear of thoughts, of thinking what if this isn't even... like, what's a boneysaur? A-are they, l-l-l-like su-super strong _ghosts_ or whatever? L-l-like... the ancients..? Are they l-like that...? "It's n-nonobigdeal..." And suddenly that's all it can be; it swoons up in front of me and I shatter diga-deep into my bones until they probably stick out just like I'm a brownysaur or whatever it was too.

Diga-Dino of course reacts nothing like that, his head leaning upwards again, his tree of a life recovered and him half slanting against me, not for his own comfort but probably mine. He mutters, "Well, I guess they're kinda cool. So, what? That thing... looks like a tricera..." Fingers waggle carelessly for that red patch of bone stuff. Boneysaurs. Oh. "And that thingy... hrrr... it's, uh, uh, a t-rex? Eeeewwww. I hate t-rexes." But yeah, that hulking thing staring diga-down his massive snout at us, that's gotta be a t-rex boney thing boneysaur. Not even red at all but just bright snow white. The fire sucked straight out of him, his entire body morphed out of some form of palpable diga-darkness shaped into this thing and pinned by these structures like needlework.

And of course diga-Dino hates t-rexes. Diga-Droplet's never-ending babble about being better couldn't even save him. But then again, I'm just as bad with my acro, even if she's... not exactly gonna be fighting any t-rex things anymore. She diga-doesn't like fighting. I diga-don't like fighting all that much now. I mean yeah, we all start out on it, they're vivosaurs, they just woke up, what the heck are they gonna wanna diga-do, but it... it changed now.

"Oh yeaaah, you mean, like, my b-rex and my b-tricera. Yeaaah, those guuys." Swiftly, a paw of a hand raises and the creatures fall into blackened voids of medals that he collects in his squishy palm quite easily, thumbing over the two and storing them off into a pocket of his swamped but black shorts. And they're those shorts with the weird, like, not fuzzy but not cardboard material, with all the pockets and oh hey he cut jagged lines through the bottom. Of course he diga-did. "Well, yeah, whatever, now you know. Heard Joe was here... wanna go find my uncle... where's Cole and Lola..." He shifts in posture and suddenly yells, "COOOOOOLE! LOOOOOLAAAAAA! WHERE AAAAAREE YOOOUUU!"

Even though his jaw splits wide open in his strangely sagging, low, careless tone, it's kinda obvious he can still see through all this blackness. My hands weave through diga-Dino's for safety measures, my head leaning toward his shoulder because thankfully I'm not so short that I'd have to rest my head on that gray chest of his—because then I'd look like a girlfriend and, like, no. We're, like, everything in matters of closeness _but_ that. Ew.

"LEEEEEEEESSSTEEEEERRRR! I WANNA GOO HOOOOMEEEE! LET'S GO BAACK TO CAAAALIIOOOSTEEOOO AND SEE RUUUPERT AND EEVERRYYOONE!" Yeah, of course he diga-does. It's really what I'd expect, if the master of that voice was my friend. It's all whiny and boyish and, like, cramping my style, of all things, my style. It just... feels in such a finality for that way. I can imagine a short little thing, hair in tattered, curly tangles, and big yellow eyes overflowing in tears. I bet I'm right; that's gotta...

A sweep of a glance over the Lester guy's chub figure suggests otherwise. Diga-doesn't look like the kind to go make friends with little babies. More like... weirdos that happen to diga-dress similarly to him until they all look like they're matching and it's scary. Through the diga-darkness peels the Lester until his pale body can't be picked up through the gloom, and all that tells me he's still there is the gruff chastising that has to be from him and to the whiny kid that's his friend. I wonder who Lola is. She sounds nice. And Rupert. I diga-dunno if I've heard about a Rupert before. Wait... uh... uuuhhh... well... maybe, I guess.

I feel like... I'm supposed to know, but...

But...

"O'MEL! DON'T YOU GET LOST NOW IN ALL THESE PEOPLE! WE ARE MOELS—AND MOELS DON'T GET LOST IN THE DARK!"

"BUT LEMO I SMELL FOOOOOOOOD AND I WANT IT WANT IT WANT IT!"

"DON'T YOU DARE DISRESPECT WHO WE ARE, O'MEL."

Oh guh and there goes my focus. Spilling over like a glass vase diga-Droplet hated.

Just brushed up to him, I can hear his vivosaurs yelling about the chub kid and their response to that, and now how they feel about all the other yelling voices they must hear launching off everywhere. All of these sounds finally catches up to me and I slog through the black again and remember the diga-door where I'm supposed to be if it's too much. It was always a little bit too much. So many.

So so many.

And they're loud, too. I diga-dunno if I've ever been surrounded by this many people before, and I diga-don't like it at all. Scary, gabbing sounds, all... yelling... fiercely tossed, burned into my life so that now I can't escape them, burnt into me like my own flicker of a flame of a voice that sometimes coughs into ashes but mostly burns bright and warm. Now I'm losing that fire. It's all sort of falling into place and now I see just how much fire I'd originally had, and I diga-don't like this.

But he diga-does. My gaze slits straight through him, because I know, I know he wants to stay and see all these people. To immerse with them. Heart beating, beating, beating in me, I diga-don't know if I can diga-do that, I diga-dunno if I can hold out much longer. Tired. Rags. Scared. Very scared, all of a sudden, flashing lights of scared in a room without light to shed on it, so diga-dark it's agonizing for me, and the voices that I can't even at the least pick out. Again I remember those vivo-cakes and the table of all of the sweets that will be eaten, and how far away I am from ever reaching it.

His eyes are on me. I can't hide my emotions well enough to pretend this diga-doesn't hurt, and now that it diga-does it's gonna stay until it stops, so I sort of slip back, maybe the shadows will mix into my features and diga-disguise it more. Why diga-did it take so long in the first place? I guess my mind diga-desperately tried to hide it from everywhere else, and then all that action leaked into my life and now it's not very possible to keep it from clustering in me. My hands, I note, clacking them together, shiver as one cold unit.

They search and burn into mine, and now his hands cover this coldness in me, too. "Jkonna..." It's soft. Quiet. Warm, always that hint of sweet "silly" in it, like nothing ever happened, and he never lost it for months at a time. "It's okay." He sees me shudder more so he continues on, his eyes all-consuming, diga-dragging me in. "See..? Right now, it's okay. I'm, like, super duper okay, Jkonna. Go on... take a rest. I know it's... it's scary for you, so go take a rest. Go on. It's okay. It's okay, Jkonna."

The last thing I see of him before everything gets too blurry to see through is a big slit of a smile cascading through his lips and like a ray of light just slamming straight into me, taking all my breath away until my vivosaurs try to pool in on the effort and teach me how to breathe. Nodding hesitantly, very hesitantly, not wanting to leave, to ever, ever leave, but knowing it's okay and I'm gonna like diga-die if I stay here another ten seconds, I diga-dart off into that room, where Bea's family must be, all diga-dressed in their black and diga-drinking their tea from their goth teacups in their goth getup in the goth room because it's so black that none of them will be able to tell all the light Nick Nack's put into their relation's life.

Hilarious.

But I go past them, too, because I diga-don't think I can stand to sit on their crocheted pillows and sip their sweet, sweet tea and listen to all those diga-dark-clothed people, Ben Ginner and Biley Ginner and Bun Ginner and Bexy Ginner, and Bea Ginner too. I like Bea, though. I like her. But I diga-dunno if her family's right for me to sit by, even if I can, and I stutter out into the balcony and collapse there, closing the windows on my hands and knees so that this soaking light of the moon diga-doesn't ink into their strange party.

My head hits one of the clever, white bars. No one is around. I can cry now. It's quiet, peaceful, serene, I'm alone. I can cry as much as he diga-does right now.

So I diga-do. It splits and slides diga-down my cheek until it soaks into the ground, or me, or the moon, perhaps. It's tiny, a little slice of sky in diga-dazzling whiteness, easy to blot out for the party and the people, and I think of diga-Dino still in that diga-darkness but unafraid to master it while I'm stored away over here. Not even wanting to take one little bite from all those sweets, not one little break or attempt to hide by the window where it's covered but still there. He's okay right now. He's okay. I can't believe it but for once he's actually okay. Ragged breaths accompany all these beliefs, and I can't. I can't...

 _See, isn't it just like I said?_

 _Foster, you diga-didn't say anything, diga._

 _Of course I didn't._

 _Shut up, you big fat weirdo Foster dude._

 _Oh, hello, Bliss. Why the heck are you here now?_

 _Bliss_

We plop sidelong, on Jkonna's lap of swollen, discarded tears where, oddly, we'll be the least likely heard and the least likely to be suspected about anything. Beside me, on the edge of her big brown dress of fluff warmth, the frig-mas colors of Morie and Bomba lie, all snuggled as usual together, not like they're like ever anywhere else or anything. It's always really funny to watch them; I dunno; I just find romance really funny.

Foster's next to me. He never drips water like drip-drip-Droplet so he's weirdly dry usually, but he's still a futabi, he's still an aquatic... thing. Orange highlights. White fins. Big gray underside, like he hangs out with Dino too much, but Dino only rode him once and that was a long time ago, before all the things happened. Hnnn, I think, if our lives were one big novel, then all the junk that happened before Dino went and had to get all sad would be before, like, in the prequel, and this is our sequel of valiant return like we're knights in shining armor and it's awesome. Bliss, Bomba, and Morie: the super moms. And Foster too I guess. He's... pretty cool ish ish ish.

 _So what now are you doing, strange one?_ he goes on, not forgetting like Jkonna would for some minutes. _I don't hear any rhymes, which is delicious, because now I can finally sleep._ His jaws part into this humungous yawn; we both know what he's really feeling and that he never slept well anyways, back then.

Still quiet. Not really sure what I wanted to say. I mean, it's not like I've always been like super obsessed with poetry or anything. It's... sort of an obsession that happened because of the end of the first novel of our story. I wonder if we'll have a third novel. That would be cool, I guess. But then of course we're going to have chapters until our lives find their true bliss in the end, so I shouldn't worry, because what about all those things Jkonna keeps puttering over? The ones she never remembers and doesn't correct herself about?

Even after she saves Dino, if that all happens, if it doesn't I dunno I guess our novel ends there, but then: what about that Dina? Doesn't he still have a missing sister? It's funny, because Jkonna did meet her once, but she can't really focus on much but Dino right now. Worry, worry, fear, pain, sorrow, worry, sudden rush of enthusiasm, anger, disgust, anger, worry, worry, worry. Sadness. Mellowkonna is so weird.

 _I suppose it would be nosy of me to ask why you've stopped your sudden bouts of poetry?_

 _Shut up,_ I try to laugh. It sort of wheezes. Ow. Ow. Bomba's fiery eye flickers over me, her content seized by her own Bomba sort of worry, but I wink one hazel eye so she dozes off again. My big, large, perfectly hug-sized body hunches back as Foster totters toward me. _Besides, I'm not the one missing my dear sissy so badly, now am I? Your lovely sister, your sweet sister, your poor, gone sister you haven't seen for millions of years ey?_

He snorts. _And shut up to you too._ I hate how flawlessly he wheezes his own laugh after that, and it so perfectly disguises everything I failed at. I guess we sorta understand each other in a way.

He's okay, I guess. Foster. Not so bad. More than mildly interesting. He's by no means Morie or Bomba, but we're all stuck together so I better get used to him. And I know more about him than everyone else, so that's always fun, to pester him about his sister, even though it's kinda mean too. But then he'll pester me about my sudden bout of poetry, so it's even.

 _Y'know, Sofetty's probably stronger than you think she is. Sofetty, like... I dunno. She's your sister, so like look at you?_

Those eyes peel straight into me. _Yes, I am very strong, aren't I, Bliss? I can fight and destroy things, yes? And I can protect whom I love, can't I?_

 _Shut up._ Still can't do it like he can. _You know what I mean. You're not very physically powerful, but your mind is a massive nexus of strange smartness. Bomba's is a simple, lovable, and highly flammable world, Morie worries too much about everything and her only melting point is her Bomba, and... you know how I am, but you're, like, the master. And you annoy Jkonna without making her hate you, and it's hilarious._ It's like he knows the exact point at where to stop: he does, honestly. He toys with her because it's fun, not any other reason than that. He has simple desires too.

Although because of that, it means he understands her a whole lot more and succeeds way better—because that's exactly what it feels like, succeeding way better—at pacifying her fiery mind. So we'll listen and help out sometimes, but we do come first to each other, sorry Foster we have years of connection over you. But I think he's still squirming his way in.

Sometimes Morie worries about us, and how I can understand him. About how I can understand her and Bomba too. She never swore me into doing it because she knew I'd tell her everything that happened, her and Bomba, though sometimes we gotta be careful to keep Bomba from catching fire, which is really hard without a water vivosaur, even though Foster is one and we just don't use him of course, but for the years we never had him, well. Sheer force of will and Morie's love for her, and very slight ability to negate flames, which of course isn't enough for Jkonna.

 _So now you think your obsession is withering away?_

I snort. _Hey, hey, easy there, weirdo._ It... comes out a little bit better this time. I can't, like, succeed better than him, but it was okay. _I wouldn't really... call it an obsession. But after everything that happened, I didn't know what to turn to, and I was scared, sooo..._ I'm not mentally strong like Foster, and I don't have a Bomba or a Morie for me, so... I was kind of suffering from all those feelings. Oopsy daisy. Turning to poetry was a horrible idea but the first one I had so... it sort of helped? And made me really creepy? _Well, do you want me to shout the word 'polysyndenton' randomly, now? Just so we can pretend, since you seemed to love it so much?_

Foster's eyes slit up and he snickers softly, whispering back, _Eh. Rather not. I kind of like this Bliss more than the suffering Bliss who was so sadistic she turned to poetry for comfort._

 _Hey, hey, hey! You know exactly how I felt at that time, but none of you could catch me and poetry just so happened to be the thing that did!_ Stupid Foster; but it's more teasing, because he likes to push people's buttons sometimes. He knows exactly what he's saying right now.

 _Whatever._ He snorts bubbles. _Try not to catch up in poetry next time. I hadn't known you for all that long yet, so, it was... freakish, I suppose._ Hearing the turn in attitude, I know that for once his oh so deep and sleepy voice is going to speak from the heart. He changes it randomly a lot, so that you can't really tell what to trust, but that was an obvious interlude. _Like, I'm gonna be best friends with what now? All I ever heard about you was the definition of literary devices, like that dastardly polysyndenton, and how it's when you speed everything up with the use of 'and.' Not like I knew what that meant. I sort of assumed you were trying to speed up the end of the world or something and were in a cult, or a gang, or one of those wonderful creatures._

 _Really?_

Another laugh. It's simple, and it's kinda... genuine. Warm. Milky. Yeah. _Yeah, basically._

 _Oh, oh, hey, hey, remember when you first met Dino and you crushed those roses?_ His eyes, though a little more playful, still hold their narrow poses. This draws his attention. _You didn't do that, because, like, Rosie, did you?_ Yes, I want to know about something that long ago.

He just snorts and murmurs off into the bleak, dark, comforting distance, _It was that or crush the petunias._

 _I rather like petunias._

I mutter back, all joking, _Of course you do._ But I guess Foster can't be deep and hidden all the time. He has simple desires, like petunias and how he'd rather crush thorny roses than his oh so dear petunias.

Looking away, I smile at Jkonna's dress. One of my rugged paws plays at the beads on the edges as I whisper, real quietly, _You're a weirdo, Foster._

Him silent too, he smirks away. _I think we're all weirdos, Bliss. You, me, Sofetty, Morie, Bomba, Jkonna, the whole lot of us, and Dino too._

 _Yeah. We are._ My sharp teeth smile a little bigger, then, and this time they don't look very threatening.

 **Yayyyyy feelsy chapteerss**

 **Bliss: -Then it's like next chapter and Dino's sobbing and all depressing all over again.-**

 **Me: but of course**

 **Foster: -It would only make sense.-**

 **Bomba/Morie: owo**

 **Jkonna: -covers ears and waddles away-**


	19. Do: An Alternate Way of Seeing it

**Todd: We should make a song out of all the chapter title thingies.**

 **Dinu: Yes. I feel so bored and neglected that we should.**

 **Pauleen: I HAVEN'T EVEN SHOWED UP IN THE DIGA-DARNED STORY YET I'M JUST MENTIONED LIKE TWICE**

 **Todd: uhhh.. -shuffles papers- DO DA DA JA DO JA JA—**

 **Pauleen: BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

 **Foster: slowly slams the door marked All Neglected TSFF Characters shut**

 **(this chapter was uploaded instead of at the end of this week in the middle of it, with another planned to be finished by Sunday, because I felt really guilty about not finishing a chapter on a three-day-weekend.  
Permission to fear me enabled.)**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 19: An Alternate Way of Seeing it

 _Dino_

If I do this the wrong way, I might freak her out like a whole lot, so, like, I... need to be super duper careful here. Clearing my throat just the slightest, sparkly black fingers reach out and yank on the hand leading up in front of me. Spirals of her fiery hair jolt into a halt as her searching gaze drawls upon me. She's obviously worried. It's weird and mom-like but I swear she's always worried now, so I have to be careful or she'll just get even more worried and it'll be bad. Like, super bad. But... uh... it's okay, right? I think it's okay.

What's okay? Not sure. Something is. Maybe Jkonna. No... she's not that okay, either. I—am I okay? No, no, no... it's something else... Uh, oh... well, Nick Nack and Bea are okay, that's for sure, uh, for now; oh my gosh I've become so depressing, I'm like that one kid in the black with the star on his eye and the layered pants. The Lester's friend guy.

Those icy pupils only frost over all the more the longer our silence draws thin. I feel like she's staring at me as I slowly stretch out a thick wad of dough farther and farther apart like a string, a bright red imposing string, but the further I stretch it the longer it takes and the more it seems like I'm never going to end this grating tension. Awkwardly I chuckle. She tries and fails to cover up that blot of worry like ink on her brown, warm face. Her cheeks puff; that tiny bit of a chin she's got makes itself all the more obvious.

"Uh... hey... uh, Jkonna?" That squeak is getting me nowhere in life. I know I sound like a mess; I know everything I freaking do now adds to my looking of this freakish failure of a human Dino; I'm more okay-er than that though so it's like no worries. "I-I was just thinking about things..." It drawls further when I decide it's just getting worse the more I try to talk.

Yep. Look at those narrowing, icy slits of eyes. They match the lines on her cheeks in size, too, now. Her bangs straddle the line between hovering and covering, that one twirly on the side of her face springing with her slightest motions. "Diga...Dino?" Worry worry worry pulsing like a waterfall from her and I am stupid.

Laughter echoes from within me. _Oh my gosh, that's so great._ Droplet jokes now because she's feeling better about a few things. It's... more okay over and around here, all that. Her slick snout licks with the thing she's named after, rainbows of moisture rounding her cheeky face as she snickers a little louder.

 _D-Droplet!_ whines the pipster like usual, _th-that's still rude, you know! C-c-come on..._ For some unknown reason I feel my face heat up. Jkonna stares at me a little longer, but I don't think she can tell because of my sheer orange complexion. Like the fruit, I am unstoppable.

 _Yeaaah, but not, um..._ And then she looks off into the distance too. I'm losing them. Where are they going. Frantically I scrabble for their minds but out of nowhere another voice chatters and completely throws me of like _LONE LONE LONE LONE_ but it's a nonstop little cheep of _lone lone lone_ that I can't escape. And it goes on for like ten seconds until Droplet and Pippy can grasp their lives or the situation or whatever it is they're struggling with again.

Coughing loudly, Droplet continues; _So uh anyways, I'm not being meaaaaaaan._ Her tongue flickers playfully. _I just find Dino hilarious, so I must show my emotions or risk becoming a pushover, and I dunno how much I'd like to be one of those things. Yeah sure Harei's great and all, but do we really need two of her?_

Amethyst orbs peer a little strangely: almost toward the krona, but just chipping off the edge of her figure, like it's become an unbearable trial to look upon her. His cheeks go pink and it's weird. _Dear, d-dear Droplet..._ He pauses and forces in a thick breath. Stuttering, he tries again: _N-n-no... we don't need two Hareis, I want one sweet unique Harei; and I certainly don't want to watch my poor Droplet dissipate into thin air! I would much rather prefer her although sharp and scary personality!_

 _Of course you would,_ she giggles softly; ominously, they all shut up. That's just great. My gaze flickers back for the redhead gawking at me, her hands on her hips and her eyes a confusing, blistered mess of feelings.

"Oh!" Gosh. I forgot. Thanks, vivosaur weirdos. "Um... I'm fine, I swear... it's not like I'm going crazy or, uh, anything, but... just been..." Whistling, my eyes, unable to look at her, too, just like with Pippy, swerve straight for the skies. Jkonna didn't wanna go to Knotwood Forest so I let her take me over to Mt. Lavaflow instead, which is all warm and snuggly I guess but Knotwood Forest is the one stuffed with flowers; though I can't blame her for having a grudge on the digadigs who all live there.

It's like, Greenhorn Plains—been there way too many times—Bottomsup Bay—rather not go back just yet—Rivet Ravine—I mean, McJunker technically lives there, so, same thing—Knotwood Forest, all those new dig sites I don't wanna try out yet because I'm a wimp, and... well, here. So basically, Mt. Lavaflow was my second choice? More like my only other acceptable option? I'm... I'm good enough, Jkonna. No worries. Not gonna start drowning in all the lava puddles or anything. I'm all good.

To assure her of this, my hands yank over to her dress thing's sleeve and tug it tight as I mutter, "I've just... just been thinking about things..."

That was a good way to bring it up, right?

Maybe?

Eyes slice straight through my weirdo self and I wonder again if that was really the best thing I could've done right then, or if now I just made a big mess, like, bigger. It's just... like, how else do I explain it? The dusty and ratty old cogs in my head decided to do things so it's like am I supposed to pretend it's not there? Jkonna, I want you to know what's going on with me... It's so easy to tell how you feel now, and I guess it's been a little too easy to finally adjust to my, uh, turd emotions. It's not like they're gone, but, like... you're cleaning them out, so that's... good... but I guess you can't tell, Jkonna.

Well, uh... I try to look all professional as I glance down toward her. Our height difference is very useful because if I want to stay around her size we can sit together but by default I'm always the one she looks up to, and it's great. This awkward, squiggling chuckle threatens to rip my mouth open at the thought of how we are. But at the same time, while she is kinda small, she's not so small and I'm not so tall that we look like romance material because that would be horrible because she's literally everything except that.

Pippy cries. _That is so not true, D-Dino!_

 _Why the heck do you want me to fall in love and junk, anyways?  
_

 _Because it's a warm and tenderhearted feeling of pure beauty that you almost could have escaped into, dear boy, with our poor lass Rosie!_

Wait. I'm now realizing that for the longest time he's been all-knowing in romance and that... like, how? And even though I haven't directly popped the question yet, Pippy hits a hard, cold silence and doesn't mention that girl's name again for at least a good few seconds. As those moments expand and it looks like he's not gonna say anything, I mumble, _Sorry... Um, but, don't worry about me, Pippy. I have Jkonna; and we all, like, know that, so..._ While he's still pretty solid, I think that at least got through to him.

He's being moodier than Rosie herself and it's really wiping me out.

Curious, now, or maybe her worry overflowed out of the small bucket of she that can't contain these crazy stressed emotions of hers, Jkonna's head perks again as she watches up to me. Her icy eyes slide back and forth as they check over my face, and, I guess finding that I'm not going crazy or that it'll be okay, that I'll be okay, she asks me, "So, what are these things you're, uh, thinking about? Digadig?"

That tiny curl of hair springs as her head twists. I think she's nervous, held in place, left to think about her fears and which one of them I might be about to whisper like nothing into her. Chained. She feels chained. A little panicked, I squeak, "Gah! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay!" she squeaks back.

"It's just that I..." Black and orange, tough-looking but actually soft spines of hair go spinning as my head flips right and left. My eyes, gray like the weird feelings like gunk still stuck up in me, the worst kinda sinus in the world, sort of peer for her, and hers peer back at me. "I've just been thinking more about... well, everything, in a sense." Being vague again. I wanna kick myself. Like it knows, my tail drapes tight around my legs and I'm locked into place just as she feels. Come on, come on. Deep breaths. I am okay. "Well... it's just—sometimes I think about her more, now.

"Y'know..." It's hard to go into my thoughts, all these intricate wonders of introspection to scrutinize my weird self and think, but shallow aspects have washed up on my beach of a mind after a hurricane and now I'm recollecting all these lost pieces. "Duna. I've been worrying a lot about... about Duna." Whether or not that's who she expected, Jkonna's face doesn't sway and she nods all the slightest: a tiny tip bounced to one side. Coughing, I mutter, "Maybe that's just me or something. To worry about someone who's hilariously fine. But, like, we have no way of talking with her or anything, after... everything. So that's kinda stuck. And I never got to hear her voice one more time after all that we spoke of. Which is funny..."

All that I told her prior to our bodies getting all stony and she never thawing like I did, every last morsel of the time we spent together is exactly what people like my dad would've wished for before losing that person close to them. We were just joking, giggling, laughing—me more than Duna because that dinaurian never laughed much, like less than her brother—enjoying those last bits of warmth in unity before stone and before we waited to be recovered, and she... never was.

It's an easier stick to swallow. When it first happened I sort of snapped, and then all the other memories of what happened dragged me down too and I became the worst stick in the mud ever. I guess it... sort of became better over those months..? But it only just finally made a showing in change. Because now I can think about that pretty girl whose height thank gosh almost matched mine, similar to Rosie in lots of ways including the magenta, but calm on her own and palpable in her opinions. She never voiced them, only let the tide take her. Though I liked to look, and others liked to look, like Dynal, when he got better and saw me, into those things that she expressed.

Duna was... funny, weirdly. Her short, deep, pink strands of hair framed a solid, snowy blue face that could deadpan all it wanted without realizing. Her limbs, a deep, foreboding blue like the ocean, matched mine in their shadier coloring, and they resembled Raptin's, too. Dots of pink. Everywhere. Although that pink, bubblegum splendid, pansies in the spring, suggested brightness, not... whatever the heck Rosie's getting out of all of that freaking pink; well, no, it's her favorite color.

Honestly, my favorite color is silver, but Duna liked purple and she had not a splotch of purple on her, not even a weird birthmark. So it's not like we lucked out anywhere. I think Dad likes white... Mom, uh, oh, duh, she was purple too.

Gentle. Brownie fingers wiggle in front of my face and draw me from my foggy thoughts I haven't been through for some time. Jkonna's sharp, welcoming gaze pulls me right in, and her head bobbles with a nod. "Hey, uh, we can talk about all this diga stuff later, but how about we find some place to sit or something?" Blushing, her face flicks off to the side. "N-not like _I'm_ the tired one or anything..."

"You're freaking adorable, diga-Jkonna."

"Shut up."

"But you aaareee!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, uh, diga, diga, y-you're cute!"

"I am not cute."

We burst out laughing because, at least, I don't think I'm all that cute. Maybe she's laughing alongside me because she does think I'm cute or something and it's funny. But I dunno. I'm not... super tall, like other guys, like Diggins, but I'm not as short as those poor souls who never make it past some five feet five inches. There was this one guy that everyone kept mentioning at the wedding party thing, Joe, who looked at me weird when I passed him by, like I reminded him of someone—all I do know from that guy is his hat is massive but I'm still taller and therefore that makes me the alpha. Alpha Din-Din.

Tugging and linking our arms through the other, Jkonna's hair goes flapping as we return to a quiet that's much more satisfying than the last ones. Now I've tipped over that bucket and sopped away as much worry as I can. Maybe it's not everything, but I'm not yet strong enough to do things that I could do before everything like landslid all over the place. Glancing upwards again, the great skies hovering and protecting us from space turd like good ol' Guhnash reflects and shines into, almost through me, the sun a bulb of a plant slowly turning from its plot in the middle, down, down, down again. But it's not going much of anywhere yet.

When I'm perfectly aligned and carefully peel my eyelids like protection and stare straight up, I feel almost in absolute balance with the sun, but it's not like that'll do much. It just feels cool, and I like it, and Mt. Lavaflow is warm and sticky but sometimes, like now, a short breeze whistles on through and it's a good feeling.

Jkonna dragging me, we venture on. Smoke billows shortly from crater-like hunks in the ground, some burrowed up high more like volcanoes, while others puff from below and make me nervous. I worriedly pat my warming face a couple times. Nothing has caught on fire. Y'know, yet. My black, orange-tipped little tail strolls right up beside me just in case. I stopped trusting it by now; it just flicks around wherever I flick it around, but technically I haven't used it in some seventeen years so... it's like... weird. And it droops a lot, like a wilted flower, like Lone if all of her exhaustion that she should feel by now ever caught up to her.

Cliffs and red-smoldered boulders and the inching drip of lava all combined make this crazy mess of a dig site. Jkonna and I don't dig for anything anymore, though; it just... we have our groups and... I guess it'd feel wrong to take more souls out from below? There's tons, I know, but if we find a lot more then where will our attentions go to and who will get the most and all of those awkward, despising questions. Plus, I'm happy. I am.

 _Wow, I feel so touched,_ yawns my ever-passionate krona. Her tail flicks sarcastically over her dripping body.

Harei squeals at that. Of course she does. Her golden body flinches and she mumbles, _I-I dunno, Droplet... I-I-I'm really happy to be here..._

 _I'm being dumb, Harei. Stop worrying._

 _O-o-oooookay..?_ She looks away, all adorable with her face red because she's Harei like that. Harei the golden ourano, with her huge hips and everything... freakishly just like Jkonna. And Mom. My, well, mom. Okay, that's just weird. I'm gonna stop now.

Everything being all crazy still, all these feelings and thoughts about Duna that I'd locked away continuing to trickle back in, I don't pay attention to much but the dark little hand pulling me away from reality as I just focus on her and the rumbling thoughts in my head. Comforting thoughts, though I don't look into them so much as to figure out what they're saying and thinking this time. They may or may not peep every once in awhile on how badly or okay I'm doing at the moment, which I can't blame their poor souls for, but they basically know what's going on in my head. It's... more than just that kind, quiet, and simple dinaurian girl that we lost, of course. Other things connected to it. Memories of her that I can safely dust again have ties to other pieces that I can still dizzily look again. Sometimes when I'm thinking, a pang in my chest goes off at the thought of it all working in hazy pieces, placed in some sort of unity, and it aches for a moment and I have to rest.

It's just weird to have this freaking freedom again. Feel a... little better. No, not even "good" or "better" or... or... "okay." I feel a little bit more like... myself. Me. Dino. Clouds of billowing heat settle above us and cast shadows. Some swamp the entirety of our group in one swipe while others make not even a dent in the bright, boiling sun. Heat and magma burning as one fiery source scour at our bodies, but in all honesty, to me, it just feels good to have it against me. Feel, like, alive.

Memories of Duna spout from here, too. Now that I focus on their little buds, if I water them, maybe they'll grow into blooming, happy things that I can smile when I think about them. Besides, it's not like Duna was killed or anything: it was a creepy malfunction, and she won't waken from her rest until millions of years from now pass.

Strangely, out of all of us, she's probably the most recovered.

Time a standstill in all of her wake, hidden among some dumb tapestries freaking overprotective older brother Raptin chose to wrap her in, cared and watched over even in her place: even if she wanted to change, she literally can't. She's stuck. Frozen. Done, for now. She can't move from her place in time. So now I... have to get past all the gunk that poured onto me, some of those first trickles from this new state of hers. If I hadn't some crazy ditz like Jkonna on my back, it makes me wonder if I would've drowned by now. Honestly? Probably.

Hand in hand, linked together and moving a little leisurely on hot coals of earth that burn into my night of scales and her squishy brown toes, I whistle, just the softest. Her bright orbs flicker back for me maybe once, then turn away and leave me to my antics. Even softer, she mumbles through a small tune or two and purposely drops most of the notes so that I won't hear her in the background, which is really funny because I do in the end and all that concentration bunching over her forehead tells me she doesn't know.

Silly Jkonna. Lucky of me that she's the one who's been looking out over my sorry bum all this time, a silly one just like me that's been trying her hardest to preserve as much of me as I can. I worry, too: that I'll be missing one tiny bit of myself and it'll send her to shambles. One tiny thing I lost about who I was. I don't want her to, like, get all sad and... stuff.

Skies open into yawning pits of blue straight above us. Like teeth or tongues or maybe squishy rings lining the world around us. Kinda looks like... like Guhnash. When I stepped right up in that alien's maw and there sat his three brains: gigantic, wobbly rock-like thingies with weird glow lights on them and they like had voices that were crooked and creaky and just plain scary, the kind to shake one down to their core.

But also not really, because Duna was with me. So I was okay. I was still me.

It's at the top of this clearing Jkonna's gone and lurched us into that we begin to slow in our step. The heat beneath us, satisfyingly toasty, shifts as we prod along its stones. A crazy, rocky rainbow of all sorts of brown: burning brown, charred brown, perfectly turd-shaped brown, vivosaur brown, uh, on-fire brown. A mingled mesh, like the rainbow once made a flawless fitting-together puzzle and now it's all shaken around us and we're left with what's gotta be nothing but a mess.

Glinting for the jagged patches of failure, I look back. My whistle's died in my throat at some time. Red scratches on my face and we all pretend it isn't there.

Awkwardly, Jkonna dives in for a joke. "Well, digadig, diga-don't like... eat the lava or anything. Diga, it's like aaaaaalll over your face." She winces softly after that, her clay cheeks cracked, her voice a soft squeeze because that was bad.

"You're a dummy, Jkonna."

A giggle. "Yeah, same back to you, diga-Dino," she mumbles. Her breath just traces the edge of the world in one whisper. She used to be loud all the time, just like Lone; little bits of her pieces have scattered, too. Aw, turd, I'm hurting her, changing her, so she's all soft like me now too, I know it; but she won't leave, she won't stop helping me, she pretends all these cuts and scrapes don't exist.

I dig my just-as-shady eyes into our shadows, which flop over the one side. "Why, Jkonna?" I didn't really mean to drip into all the sorrow now, just after showing off horrible laughter skills, but suddenly I want to know and it's all my ears can pick up. _Why?_ "Why?" Just for good measures, it feels safer to ask her again.

"Because..." She already knows. Lodged in that head of hers, she already knows. Grunting, my eyes sort of tremble. "Because you mean a whole diga lot to me... digadig." Out of nowhere, a small, rash cough tumbles out from her lips as she squeaks in a bright flick of embarrassment. "A whole... a whole lot, so it's not like I'm gonna let go of you... I'm not leaving. Not even when you're all better, diga."

Oh gosh she said it for me. "What if I don't... like... 'all better?' Is that bad..? If I'm not fully... What if it makes you sad?"

"Well..." Shy again. I dunno if I like making her so stuffed, dripping in, wincing and squeaking, and looking back in angst. I feel... it's like my heart of paper was ripped straight out of my chest and crumpled by whoever took it from me. All carelessly, like they didn't even mean to break it but cracks splinter off of its awkward, gooey mess of feelings. "I diga-dunno..." All attention returns to her. "I diga-dunno if either of us will, uh, get completely better... l-like nothing happened. But I can try, right? I think I'm gonna try, and I'm gonna try as much as this digadig can, at least to make you... feel a little better. More like you. I diga-don't want diga-Dino to be anyone but diga-Dino, okay?"

Squeaking, I giggle, "Yeah? But what if I don't wanna be diga-Dino? Then what?"

"Who the heck diga-does this diga-ditz wanna be then?" she shoots straight back. The air sizzles; I freaking love it and upturn my lip in a smirk.

"Well, y'see, what if I wanna be..." Here it comes. Moment of truth. Bunch the muscles and bend my hands and ready, ready... "You!"

 _Pwap!_ We go slick through hot, coughing, flammable air and spill out into the clearing just in front of us. Random swabs of grass that somehow manage to live at the very top of these weirdo boulder mountains sprig out and dance with petals. I manage to get my hair caught up in like five of these things, and one of them breathes so closely to me I swear it was that close to going up my nose. Not cool. Flowers don't belong in noses. I think. Unless that changed...

Glancing severely toward her, she's not looking; because it'd be rude to rip the little white dandelion from its home I instead lift a scraped hand and slap Jkonna's upward face down into the plant. It's not so hard that she'll hit her head on the rocks and it's not soft enough to give her wiggle room: so therefore it's gotta be perfect. "So, uh, random question. Is this what society does now?"

"Pwah! You diga-dummy!" Spewing leaves and ashes, fingers that have long pink slits of death called nails spike into my knees, right above where the dots of those suns of oranges lie like sunset hopes, sunset twins or whatever, and I squeal and drop back and there are now crescents embedded like the crusts of diamonds inside of me for however long those evil fingernails lay their waste upon me. Jkonna, you're such a female. But that's a good thing, so...

With our bums slammed into rocks and shrubs alike, probably lots of flowers pulverized by the never-ending swinging of my tail, our eyes meet again, me slouched and she... slightly less slouched. Her dress flattens and bends around her, curving like a coating as her head raises to face me. Fluttering her eyelashes like the female she is, she coughs again in this loud, rough voice that isn't female at all. Her face doesn't leak of it, though. She's just bent and smirking toward me as long tendrils of her hair go flying.

"I believe we were talking about something diga-diplomatic and rather ostentatious, yes?" Pretending I know what that whole "ost-ten-tach-eus" ordeal means, I nod hopelessly with my eyes shut. Yes. Embarrassed. She doesn't have to know if I pull the blinds on the windows of my soul, yes?

The life around us dulls, softens, on the edges again. All sound dies. Our eyes don't quite meet, even after mine open again; we're just off in the distance, refusing to look at the other in the eye because of the feelings and worries brewing all throughout us. The vivosaurs in my head, mostly silent, probably tired because of all of my climbing, until now, murmur to themselves rather respectfully. Weirdos. It doesn't really lighten the mood though; all the same. It's awkward. I'm losing it. I dunno where I'm supposed to go from here. We found a nice spot to sit together, and now I've lost my flowing river of the motions and the words have died on me worse than a drought could ever wish to.

Some silences with Jkonna are nice. Even. We're on the same grounds, probably thinking about the same things like, I dunno, flowers. Peanut butter. Droplet. Foster. Rosie. All little sorts of things that tie us together: and then this one jars. We know that I know something that I can't eke out of myself. It's clinging tight on the edges; the words blur right on my tongue, burrs clipping me worse now that it's silence. Since I have literally nothing to lose and it is sweet, fearless Jkonna, I try for words and mutter, "It's... a sort of long story.

"Um... can I go on?"

It's dumb and pathetic and useless but how else am I supposed to ask? Looking back at me, her clear lakes of eyes full of bright, wintry sky bear down upon me, but it's not the cold of the outdoors of the state of wintry areas that I know so very well—after Thomas the frigi went crazy and tried to kill everyone and that included freezing Vivosaur Island which included freezing my poor dumb vivosaurs—well, she's more the fires and the snuggles that happen indoors that fill us with special warmth.

This look cascades upon me now. "Of course you can go on. Always."

Her bangs shed over her wide, readied, steadied eyes and cast a funky, fiery shadow on her entire face. The one twirly thing sticking off to the side spins endlessly on one strand just off the edge of her head. Her lips, small but really formed, slip together in that friendly way they do when she looks at me. She has a small, sort of squared off jaw that doesn't look like much until her focus intensely rolls unto me, so fiery and palpable it sucks me straight in: and I know, every word that she'd plucked and prodded into that sentence breathes none but the truth.

What a glorious feeling...

"See... well... I guess it kind of does start and end in Duna. But It's not just Duna. It's always been more than Duna." Of course it has. I dunno if I have enough fingers to list all the issues I've been bumbling around with. Sure, there's The Aspects: the whole family thing, everything Guhnash, my seventeen years of being a human a lie I told myself when I was two and dumb, you know, all that good stuff. Within those still are more fears and failures and scares biting straight into me and I'm sure struggling for a taste of my heart and whatever sweetness or rottenness or Dino-ness it wants to take for itself.

It's always been more than just her, although she's in it. "It's... even after everything, it's still..." How am I to put this? It's like... a game, I guess. The game's entire underlying purpose is me, but even that is only one part of the game. There's also the pieces of the players: Dynal, Jkonna, Raptin, Rosie, Duna, Droplet: all of them. There's little turds like Guhnash and my dead mom and missing sister and ancients, oh my gosh, everywhere. And all of these jagged pieces were torn out of me like intestines and I just got that bit of good ol' Guhnash back... well, Duna, more so.

And all of those connections tied to him... it... her... whatever. They've been strummed. An ethereal force of feeling within me had recollected this part of me again and accepted it. Unlike baby me, who looked at the world around me and hid the truth from myself, because I was scared.

But now I don't wanna pretend I'm an orphan, dead parents, no sister, just a rowdy human without understanding... without Jkonna. I wanna be me. So how do I say this? How do... how do I "me?"

I guess that's what I'm trying to do here. Trying to me. Trying to Dino myself and addle it all together again. "So um..." And going on. "It's still..." Oh yeah, I left her hanging earlier. "It's still, like, there? Existent. Yeah. It's all still there, I guess... everything still exists." How wonderfully obvious of me I am dying. "But... like... thinking about it all now, I can't help but wonder how... well..."

Leaning forward, my eyes stars staring straight into Jkonna's flaming spirit as she lurches back all sweaty and nervous, I whisper it in the simplest way I can try to whisper it: "About, I guess... all of it. About the mystery of what happened to her and... what might've happened in... in... um..." Other situations. "Other situations..." Something... something like that, I guess.

Her tiny jaw screws up like I thought it would; it makes me smirk in the slightest. A dumb smirk. A Dino smirk. That's probably the best feeling out of it all: knowing I can call this bending in my lip "mine," because it's something only I'd do. "So, er... I guess it's like... if this was all a game... it makes me wonder what pieces built together... how that happened... and what if... they'd been assembled differently. It kiiiinda freaks me out, but I also feel like using my brain so much is probably good for me, since, y'know, I've been doing about nothing for this past time..." It rolls off into an incomprehensible mutter, but she gets what I mean. I can see it in her eyes, gleaming sharply, intake of mine.

It almost makes me feel sick, going back into life again.

But I want to. I need to. Jkonna...

"A game, diga..?" Musing Jkonna; fingers raise from one hand and tousle one side of her short, simple, choppy bangs as colors explode between her warm, brown, squishy fins of hands surfing through sunset seas of hair. Her icy eyes, bright, exciting, her own stars, sparkle accordingly. I snort in her presence; it sounds all snotty and weird. I'm not... used to it. Oh joy. "Like... Uh... the role of your vivosaurs throughout all of this, and... what they've been diga-doing? What sorts of secrets they're keeping from you to try and protect your precious, trickling, like, sanity? Digadig? Or diga-did I go to diga-deep and now I'm diga-drowning."

"Naw," I assure her, my shiny fingers raising from my own hand and patting at her sideways, "you're not diga-drowning, diga-Jkonna." Cackling the softest makes me feel like some sorta crazy witch. "I see where you're coming from."

Right there and then, Droplet pipes herself straight up in an uncomfortable squeak. _Okay, that hit way too close to home! I see where it's coming from and it just hit me! This is freaking... Stupid Jkonna! Stupidkonna! Gah!_

 _Ummm... D-Droplet?_ And Pippy's back up. His long, hot cocoa stream of a neck trembles as his head bashfully backs right down again. Purple eyes squeeze shut. _If you hadn't said anything, they never would have the necessary materials to solve this little puzzle of ours! Errmmm... u-uh-uhhh... y-you see that, yes?_

 _Nooowww I do,_ she snorts, having stopped caring. Her face then blooms the cheerful red of roses and her tongue is bitten upon accidentally. Which of course doesn't help me at all. She hurts herself and new punctures hit my own tongue like _bam._

We ignore my stupid, beloved vivosaurs, as that's what the occasion calls for. They all pile out and romp onto my lap anyway. Of course while I'm still leaning forward, back stretched and head craned into that awkward position where soon my head is painfully close to using Jkonna's own legs as a pillow. A great, big, brown one full of fluffy warmth I'd sure love to rest upon right about now.

 _Sqshhhh—_

 _I HATE YOU FOSTER YOU BIG DUMB MEANIE_

 _GO HOME DINO AND STOP RESTING YOUR HEAD ON WEIRD PLACES_

Before I get the chance to argue about what a weird place to rest my head is or isn't, that dry blob of fins brushes me off with more strength than I thought he had, almost forcing me to kill a flower or two because he's heartless like that... and I'm not completely sure that was a joke of mine. I dunno how heartless that creepy, orange futabi is. He's just dumb like that. Just... Foster like that.

We all recover; Jkonna's small, tidy fingers tie my face and pull me into place again, so we can try to sort out the mess that is me some more. Our starry eyes casually evade each other again. Little bits of space that embed into a bright blue sky. The sun, careening though the air, careless as can be, sets my back into all sorts of sparkly flame. Even if I am on Mt. Lavaflow, and I'm high up, and it's heated as it is, I still feel dunked and freezing in the wrong place to be, so added warmth is acceptable and junk.

I'd just about fall asleep if not for a certain digadig, who clears her throat with a _caff, caff_ of pure purpose. "I guess there's vivosaurs to consider... and then there's things like the others, too... Like Bullwort. All that we learned there, digadig. And... um, diga, how about that time when... we keep visiting Nick Nack and Bea, right? So, then, digadig, there's all that too. About the... others..." She leaves off her words a satisfying hiss from her lips, eyes strictly watching a black sky for images that won't appear.

That's true, too, I'd think. Worry for them, mostly. It's not like I'm some great hero who'll just effortlessly swat their troubles up up and away: but it surges in my chest all righteous and calming when I at least try to figure out what the heck's going on. They're all important, too... Important like Jkonna, though they're still not her.

Jkonna...

My fiery redhead companion brings the thoughts of ancients breathing down her neck and down the necks of her gone parents so I'd rather not think too much on that topic although I know there's something about it.

It's more than Iggy's creepy sense of alertness. And his amount of moaning for his stupid dead boyfriend. Sure, it'd be great for that fiery pain to find some reason or another to laugh, to smile, and I'd much prefer forcing him onto my team, but my gosh, he yowls. Those... those ancients...

Pathetically, weakly, I paw the topic off of me for now. It sucks the air from in front of me and makes life harder in general. The ancients are too heavily connected on anything, and every time it's like stepping on a vine high above the earth and waiting for that haunting, ever-coming crack. Trying to balance a world that won't. So I'm just trying to avoid the inevitable, for at least a little longer. At least a little bit more time... I dunno how much more I can handle right now...

A tower of wooden blocks, I'm sort of worried about how easily I'll fall right down again, back to where I'd started. Or lower. So y'know rather not find out. Just gonna... like... put that out there...

"Ummm..." Knowing my discomfort better than the back of her hand, Jkonna picks up another string and tugs this one: "Diga-Duna?"

Yeah. Exactly that. Nodding, I repeat her; "Diga... uh... Duna. Duna."

I remember it all a lot more clearly than I thought I would.

 _As for who I'm taking... uh... "You go, not me—you gotta ask the right lady to go with you. I've seen your moon eyes, diga, and I know very well I'd just be trampling all over your little love triangle. So you'd better figure out which girl you're in love with, and then she'd better be the one you take with you, digadig..."_

" _Oh! And... uh..." I kind of squeeze at the hand I'm holding, really hoping it doesn't crack or something. I don't know this whole "like-like" thing. "I like Duna..?"_

Jkonna'd... pushed me into choosing the girl I liked. Those whole problems springing up with Rosie and Duna, both of them tossing their hearts at me and I'm supposed to catch them, it sort of webbed into there, too. Honestly, she expected me to choose the one I, like, "loved," but I just grabbed the first one in front of me out of the two of them. It's funny. Because of that, now the one I've chosen has gone. Simply. Gone. Done. No more. Frozen until millions of years thaw her and she reunites with the world with our descendants, all of them, whatever sort of horror machines those things might be.

I eliminated one on complete and utter accidence.

So therefore, if... Rosie'd been the pink ditz she usually is and had stumbled straight in front of me and begged for entire minutes, I would've chosen her. Because I... I guess I... "loved" her, then, too. So it was all in good time, all in equal measures.

Only then...

"Diga-Dino? Um... what are you thinking about? Your eyes are so wobbly... like they're about to..." She draws off; I answer the question for as my orbs begin to leak a tiny bit, a baby droplet licking straight off my cheek as I smile ominously into space.

Squeaking, trying at a rusted voice that wants to fold on me, I murmur, "I did it."

Of course, she's silent then, staring at my messed up demeanor and probably bubbling over in worry all over again at seeing me this frozen, this nervous... this afraid. This aloft: held up in a time that's trying to suck me away from it all. It's like I'm flying through my pains and they're trying to take me straight in, the past. She's silent more, finally breaching the barrier of Lones and Hareis and Droplets and Pippies and maybe Iggies too, her warm fingers tying neatly behind a back in an open hug.

She doesn't even ask what I did. She waits. She doesn't push me this time. Easy, easy... she's here, isn't she? Why, yes, she is. Now shut up, me. Try to focus on her.

I love Jkonna; I don't love her like I maybe once did the other two; I love her all the same. More. A sudden tidal wave of ripe, cold grief fills me at the thought of that fateful moment all the way back then, if I'd gone and smirked and forced her to come with me instead, and we were the ones to take that trek into Guhnash, and she was the one I'd—

Someone is bawling very very very loudly. It's filling my ears and oh my gosh it's so darn loud and ugly and all... sobbing. And wet. Salty. It's filling me. It's me.

"I did it, Jkonna!" I manage to cry out, "I did it! You were all so close to losing it and I did it! I did it! I chose Duna! It wasn't Rosie and it wasn't you; it was Duna!" I can't tell what she's feeling, I only feel this bubbling, healing emotion holding me straight up and tightly squeezing me together with it, and I think my arms clutch it just as tightly.

Somehow, no matter the twigs, the tree leaves, and the tangles she must have in there, her hair is that of angel's feathers, I think. It's soft and enveloping and it's sweet, and it's nice. And it's everywhere and I love it as I bawl like the complete fool that I am.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh...aahaaaa...haaaaa..."

Still silent. Waiting. Waiting. And then, "Diga-Dino... u-uumm... I-I diga-dunno if I'd... dig-die, now? I-I'm pretty strong, wouldn'cha—"

"That doesn't matter!" I'm babbling straight over her head and cutting straight through her words like a big meanie and I don't even care. My throat's raw in tears. "I could've lost you, if I hadn't listened to you! And if I hadn't listened to you, I would've... I... I..." Coughing. Ow. That sounds awful, snotty, wet, gross, how does she live with this? "I would've..."

Lost you...

"I don't w-wanna lose you! Okay!"

Squeaking, her head falls against my chest. "Diga-Dino..." Softly, I think she feels exactly what I'm feeling. We know exactly what we're talking about now. We relate. We don't want this to happen. Neither of us. "I'm not gonna go and... and lose you... okay."

It's a statement. Not a question.

As we sit there, surrounded in scales and fins and Lone and her hair, it quietly dawns on me like all good-natured things do that right here, right now, we must look like the most lovesick couple in the entire world.

And I don't even care. I love her, and that's what matters.

And I'm not gonna lose you either. Okay.

 **Me: CLARIFYING SESSION BECAUSE I CAN  
-I AM NOT EVER SHIPPING DINOKONNA LET'S JUST**

 **Eheheh... when you realize this is ruining the mood... xD oh well. I needed to say that. Dino and Jkonna don't... Like... I'd call them as close as Dina and Rupert, but they're not all romantic. I guess that's it. Wow, that was easier than I thought it'd be.**

 **Eheh... that's just how they are, though. It's not... when people say they're "just friends," I can understand the obvious "lacking" in it. But... this one's not lacking... they're so very close... ;w; They're just not all romantic and that is an okay thing**

 **Now I'm just gonna go I am done**

 **(Random mention: this chapter signals a small endless oneshot series where I get to write Dino/Duna or Dino/Rosie fluff as much as I want in the world where Jkonna doesn't live! Yay! The Alternate Fossil Fighter, for an Alternate Dimension of... Jkonna's loss... and what it would've meant for him.)**


	20. Do: Daddy and the Butler

**Me: you end the chapter with them being all adorable and then it's like okay back to adventure**

 **Dino: the mood was like -gets scissors and cuts it all in half-**

 **Rupert: … -stares a little angrily(?) at the scissors-**

 **Me: Let's not bring up that one story that Rupert dies in**

 **Jkonna: and that Jkonna dies in**

 **Dino: and that Dina dies in but Dino doesn't die in because he is the best**

 **Jkonna: and then Jkonna punches him in the face**

 **Rupert: … -_-**  
 **-just annoyed but isn't childish so he doesn't punch Dino too-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 20: Daddy and the Butler

 _Dino_

 _Here it comes. The battle that will determine it all. The battle that will show off all greatness in the world. The battle that will... be the battle to end all battles, because it's just that serious of a battle. Any and all must watch out for the start of this specific battle._

 _Droplet mentions something about redundancy, but we all just pretend that she doesn't exist to make the world a better place. It kinda works._

 _The moment those thoughts sprout from my brain, just like the notions, petals and seeds burst out of nowhere and begin to cover the carpet ground completely. First the carpet, then the cobblestone sidewalks I hadn't noticed until now, then the walls—but wait, those aren't walls, I'm in open air. The sky, then. The sky is being infested by flowers. I didn't even know that was possible, but, like, cool. They can watch the battle to end all battles._

 _My vivosaurs consist of my usual. Y'know. Droplet. Pippy. Duna. Harei. Rosie. All of my girls and their greatness, of course. Duna mentions something about it being rude to ignore Droplet, and then about how rude it is to call Pippy a girl, but like, I thought she was a girl, so it's not like this is wrong or anything, yeah? Plus, shut up: we have a battle to win, and now none of that matters. Only the battle matters. Just... just the battle, nothing so insignificant as a gender._

 _Duna again tries to herald me with information but I again don't care and instead curiously watch all of the budding flowers that currently infest the universe, wondering why they're here and where they came from, anyways. Me? I guess it was me. The more thoughts that run through my head, the bigger they bloom and the more they create: it's like a jungle of ugly, uncoordinated bouquets. Good for them? Why the heck is there a carpet on cobblestone anyway? What's the use of that?  
_

 _Whatever. None of it matters in the end. Just the battle. This perfect battle of all battles. Me and my girls, we're gonna be in this battle, naturally; we're gonna clobber whoever it is against us because it's just that kinda battle. So I gotta be ready for anyone, cuz I thought it'd be Saurhead but I don't think the guy on the other side'll be him. Nah. This one feels... stronger, I suppose._

Pop.

 _My head zings around in a full circle with the rest of my body awkwardly following but I don't catch where that came from. That innocent plucking of one of the flowers I randomly summoned: hey, they're like my children now, what the heck! Don't go plucking children, that's just like weird. Whoever did it, I think their shards of dignity just drowned. That's okay. Not really. Gray eyes chip off into the jungle but I still can't find much of anything, just shadows._

 _But shadows are normal, ri—?_

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop pop pop. Pop.

 _Oh my gosh go away. This is a little creepy now. I don't really notice where it happens, but I can tell that color's leaving the air around me. The sky, a plain of flowers, seems to lose its luster. Like, it's not even blue anymore underneath all of the roots and shoots and stuff. Just... thick. Gray. No no... that's not gray, all the way as far as the horizon of my eyes see: no, that's like... black. Huge. Massive. Dark, dark, dark spluttering in harsh and relentless black. Pretty... pretty weird. Where the heck is my opponent anyways? Cautiously, my vivosaurs crawl out from their medals and sit in the flowers._

 _As the popping popping continues to only buzz harsher and louder, not long after mine are out in open air, a glistening figure begins to materialize just out of my sight. It's a red blob for a few moments until it lumbers onward. The closer it comes though makes it all watery, thick blue for some reason; its scales sharpen and its eyes hue of a cut plum. Claws and a sail arch him out fully and his forked, incredibly blue tongue flickers._

 _Is... that's a... like... some sorta dimetro, right..?_

 _Behind it lumbers something even fatter and even slower, which acts all pompous and blue at first but slowly, just like its buddy, takes some sort of freaky transformation where the fan around his head alternates from blue-and-pale to red-and-cyan. He's a very messed up sunrise, almost. His stout tail flickers; the three horns on his head gleam. Scary. I dunno if I like this short, fat, creepy... tricera thing._

 _Okay, if these are the vivosaurs: where is... where are they? Where's my opponent? Come on, I wanna do my battle already! This is getting weird! Okay, so it was always weird with the flower part, but now it's just getting worse and worse and... strange, I guess. Real strange._

 _I never catch the names of the weirdos walking for us. I can tell that they're both male, which is funny since all of my vivosaurs are females—shut up Pippy why are you talking—but I can't tell who owns them and I feel pretty sure there's more than just a couple of funky-colored dimetros and triceras in this team. It just feels like that sort of puzzle that's still missing a few pieces._

 _So then... where is the owner, anyways? Why is someone still being weird and killing all the flowers off?  
_

 _Still in the background it goes, a haunting song till the end of my days:_ poppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppop

 _Stop killing flowers, man. What did they ever do to you?  
_

 _Of course they don't stop but I thought I'd silently ask. Standing there, all alone other than my vivosaurs and their vivosaurs, my eyes glaze around rather redundantly about the place, in areas that are steadily leaking, inking blacker with no real showing of why. Kinda... weird._

 _When suddenly it hits me. It literally hits me; one frigid hand sidled up into my shoulder and icing it with utter, black, charred chill: my breath sinks deep inside of me and doesn't come back out again. Frantically I turn and am shoved straight into the angular face of a girl whose big, haunted gaze fills my entire life with the sight of that spoiled amethyst._

 _It's not scary to be randomly touched by a girl; even the cold hand part; that's all not so bad. It's when thick coils of sunrise-orange hair, just dazzled in silvery specks, shoot over around her face and I catch a better look at her alternating gray-and-white_ scaled _body that I'm scared. Because I know who this is. But even that isn't so bad, to suddenly see her again._

 _It's the part where her rotted eyes shine through dull, full nothingness to see me and glimpse past, and the aura of rancid darkness permeates her, brims her, stuffs her in it, until she's breathing it and it's not even her it's a shadow of her, and I understand that she's losing it, that that thing from so long is still there and it's consuming her: that's when I'm really scared._

 _Hands reach out desperately to at least grab her away from it._

" _DINA!"_

Ow. Oh. Ow ow ow. My head goes _bang_ into some glorious appendage of wood and I cry out, biting my tongue and ow that stings too. What a great way to wake up. I roll over, expecting to pummel Jkonna's body, but then I recall some hazy upbringing of last night about her complaining she has to get up early and go... do something about the Guild Area and clothes and some little kid's mom. Pff... some little kid's mom... What the heck are you up to, weirdo?

The dream... well, nightmare sinks back into me. I stare glazed out into the walls surrounding me: that tidy room of Jkonna's in the Fossil Center that we're sharing, into the purple carpet, the cream covers, and the celeste walls, all so very bright and nice, little hues where the white comes in and softens it all. But I don't let it do that to my nightmare; I hoard that little fun dream into some hole in the back of my head to keep it protected, so that it can't be dulled and made soft of squishy things like Duna and the Guhnash battle and all that.

Why the heck was I dreaming about a battle, anyways? We're all sorta really out of the thought of fighting junk. I mean, yeah, a vivosaur comes out and they've got their vivosaur instincts and they wanna fight other vivosaurs mostly that makes sense. But... well, after a lot of things, we're still searching for something we'd rather do, now. There's people everywhere, even if there isn't a lot of them: shopkeepers, the interns, Diggins himself, oh, and Ms. Nosh, too, I guess. She owns the orphanage now, and has for... as long as I've been alive. I think. I dunno. I was there when I was two and she still feels like this solid, never-ending memory of a stout, snug woman, like a cupcake, her blush pink hair spilling out past her waist, that all backgrounded by the notions of the orphans.

It's funny. I thought I was an orphan for so long but I'm not. Ha... I was a special case, I guess. The entire reason I was dumped on Vivosaur Island in the first place after nice, safe Maia Island is because of a creepy boat driver—well, Travers isn't so bad now—who had this letter and like told me we had to go. Which now makes sense, since Duna wrote the letter trying to find me because she thought it was me even though I looked like a human and it just made everything easier. Oh, fun times.

It's funny how I spent so long at such a snug place but every time I invoke the memories now they're like the ocean: bobbing a little closer, a little back, and listless in comparison to the sunset above. It's like I've only just opened my eyes to the world as I entered my island here, and everything before that was blinding and... shorter than now. Somehow shorter, I dunno.

Either way, I'm... very thankful for my time here. I have Jkonna and others to show for it. Oh my gosh, Jkonna. She's so great. She just is.

To interrupt my sulking and shifting in bed, a sudden _rap! rap! rap!_ on the door forces me to try to yell something in response:

"Yeah, whatever, come in!" I have such a weird, loud voice. It's like scraggly and sunny and a little deep but not very deep at all. I have the feeling of the voice of a kiddy pool. But it's for the older kids; the kiddy pool is deeper than that.

In pokes the head—tall person, wow—of scales dressed in morning blue, his cloud-like strands of long hair peeping as well. Slowly, gently, his long and elegant—elegant—hands peel from the entrance as he saunters closer to me. His traveling garb, that prudent purple cloak, the cuff of the neck and the wrist lined in gold, rustles around him and makes it hard to observe much else than the gigantic hump where his wings must be hiding. So quiet and so calm and so Dynalistically sweet is his manner alone.

Nodding cheerfully, his eyes shine down on me. "Hello, my son," he murmurs. His hands find their way onto the folds of the covers, where they rest and one of them gently pats, searching, searching for where the rest of my body might be. I'm half propped up with my elbows stuffed in pillows, so he can't tell much of the rest. I'm half bent over, having almost rolled into where Jkonna's supposed to be, my tail coiled off to one side because I don't know, tails are weird.

Sometimes I wonder if my colors are an eyesore in the mornings. Well, whether they are or not, Dad probably couldn't care less. When out of nowhere the door _brooonnnngs_ inward and awkwardly, a bright red, somewhat-shorter-than-Dynal face of marine peeps awkwardly toward us. Oh, hey, look, it's Raptin; what the heck is he doing here, too?

He quickly makes his way onto my bed and sits on the edge, silently fuming with himself before muttering the curt, mandatory greeting of "Hello, Dino."

Oh my gosh, he's so embarrassed. I never thought this moment would come. I need to save this memory and tell Jkonna everything about it, how Raptin's usually gliding and thin figure has hunched angrily into knotted, red embarrassment, his head not in his hands but staring off into the doorway as he tries to swallow all of that blush and fails. Probably thinks he's doing better than he is.

"Hey, guys! Dad; Raptin. What are you doing over here now? Like... that's kinda random, heh..."

Blinking, my dad, like a moon from the corner of my window, smiles his little half-smile. "Ah, we just were worried of how you were faring and wished to visit you. It perhaps has only proceeded in a small allot of time to you, but to be far from my son for even days can be quite disheartening for me. As well, Raptin fretted and worried for you as if he himself were your elder brother—"

"Aahh, that is not true, Dynal! You lie—!"

"Do not accuse a king of treason when you both know what the truth is, Raptin." He further slumps in his insignificant corner. Aw, poor Raptin. He's so embarrassed. Dynal's own little smile only strengthens. He's joking. Not about the Raptin part but he's teasing that poor guy. "Either way, we are pleased to find you in one piece; although I do fret, excuse me, on where Jkonna lumbered off to?" I always have loved my dad's voice. It's like a cream, soothing in all the right places and softly moving onward in place. And it feels like a comforting white: like the blankets I'm in.

Raptin mutters in his deeper and more obviously annoyed tone, "Dynal..."

I always liked how differently the dinaurians say things, or I guess how different the humans did. Like... they call him "dee-nal," not "die-nal." And they call themselves "dee-naw-ree-ans," not "die-naw-ree-ans." I wonder, then, if it was originally spelled Dyno and Dyna before we ended up where we are today and the humans surrounding us immediately corrected it how they saw fit. And then of course there's the ever-classic "jih-hah-nah," just a glide straight over the "kuh" in her name.

Dinaurians are alpha anyways. They accidentally created humans and tabula rasas and nomadistinians and everyone when trying to plant seeds to recreate their own selves. Well, I guess we'll like... repopulate and stuff. Not like me or my dad but... I wonder what Raptin's future mate looks like. Or if he gets one. Ha.

"So, uh," I stutter a little and shamelessly look away, "what are you here for, exactly? You wanna... do anything?" The sudden thoughts of where I can take my dad and Raptin shine straight through my head, all those dig sites we can go exploring in and it would be great. A chilling, blistering thought about those two new ones only master fighters can go to since they're so extreme flash in my head threateningly but I'd... still rather not. Anywhere else is pretty fair game, though. It's been almost two weeks so I'll live with going to like Bottomsup Bay or Rivet Ravine. Plus, grudges are stupid, and they... they're technically my friends. More like nannies but also friends.

Overcoming his blush, Raptin decides this is the perfect moment to stretch himself out and lay on the bed, his back submerged in wrinkling sheets. Held in such a precarious position, it's not long before he slides right off.

 _BUUuuump._

And he's silent from embarrassment again. Awwww, poor Raaaaptiiiin. Is it strange how badly I wanna hug him now? Whatever: I'm gonna do it anyways, crawling out from my warming cocoon and, transformed as a beautiful teffla, I spring off from the other side and bang my head against the desk right next to the bed. In a mangled heap I land beside my buddy.

"Ow! Ugh, darn it!"

The choking silent laughter is evident. Freaking... Freaking stupid Raptin. I try to elbow him and he nimbly dodges without attacking back, just like the Raptin he is. His old, yellow, rose orbs glitter amusingly for me, and I try to dodge that too but of course I can see him and he can see me. It doesn't change if I attempt to lurch back a bit. He's just, like, _there._

Curiously, long, thin strands of white hair drape over us, my dad still high and mighty on his feet. His eyes glimmer as he murmurs, "It would appear that the two of you are well acquitted for the day, no?" He doesn't exactly offer to help us up, since we're all men and it'd be a real strike to one's honor to be stuck on one's bum like so and not get up on one's own. I shove myself to my feet, tail wagging gallantly from behind in its swooping black fashion. Sparkly, too, since it's all scaly. Raptin, because of his mostly old rose pattern, all that musty yellow of a color, doesn't sparkle all that much; but for some reason I feel he likes it more that way.

Did Duna sparkle, back in her day? Yeah, she did. Lots of sparkles. Her face, since it was more like Dynal's, could allow lots of shine on it; her magenta begged to be bright, which is funny because it's completely unlike the magenta in Rosie. Her limbs are all dark and craggy like Raptin's, sorta, but hers had this glow to them. I wonder if it's because she was a girl. Oh, gosh, I hope not. That's so weird.

We stoop over and waddle up to my dad, both of us plopping on the side of the bed again. Maybe it's because I'm literally right there but Raptin doesn't hunch over all red again. Achievement? Seeing us both then in the same place and probably as still as we're gonna get—I poke him every couple seconds and a couple seconds after that he snorts—my dad nods in his agreement. "Well, Son? We did come here to visit you. If there is a stop in mind you would enjoy exploring, we would particularly take to such an event. Is there anywhere in mind?"

I'm assuming he's gonna make sure Raptin and I don't accidentally kill ourselves or each other so he'll be there too. For some reason, that sounds a lot cooler than just "my dad is going to a dig site with my 'brother' and I." Maybe because it's not just Dad but it's Dynal, freaking king of dinaurians and he's able to transform into a vivosaur at will: and I mean all of us can do that but he's got wings and horns and I dunno that traveling cloak is pretty snazzy. Smiling the slightest, like he can hear these thoughts of mine, he nods over our heads.

But first I turn to one side. "Heeey Raaptiiin?" His eyes narrow upon hearing my Raptin call. "You wanna go, or are you, like, too old for this?" Like how I thought Diggins was too old for this and then he turned out to be one of my level-up battle masters, back when I had to fight those people to prove I have learned stronger, better skills and stuff and then they'd like admit me into the next level, the next dig site, though I heard that because not everyone's so strong that most dig sites can be assessed by them when they at least try anyways. But then Diggins didn't even make me fight him cuz I fell asleep and he decided I was good to go. That's always nice.

So anyways, is Raptin too old for this or is he faking?

Because that's important.

And because that's an answer, his somewhat cloudy blue head lowers. Big, hulking spikes of hair, lesser and neater than mine, shadow over his already narrowed eyes as he mutters, "I would rather accompany you on where you would prefer to be today. If that is this 'going' you speak of, then it is this 'going.' If the king would go so bold as to call me a 'big brother' I may as well elaborate that I would like to explore alongside, where you, as the 'little brother,' wishes." A pause.

"Am I ever gonna hear you talk that much in one go again?"

Another snort. "Most certainly not."

Another pause. "So like, you sure you don't wanna date my sister when we find her again?"

"Absolutely not." That elegant, sloping face of his—more similar to hers than Duna's anyway, Duna's was more like Jkonna's, as in practically square—pinches in all the weird places and darn it I thought I was gonna get him to go off on another tangent. I guess I shouldn't try so early on. "I am not your puppet, Dino."

"You sure?"

"Very sure."

"Awwwwwwwwww."

His discontent is so obvious that he doesn't have to say anything. Then again, that weird burble of a tickle in my throat and the wetness behind my eyes is probably a whole load of guilt that I said that in the first place. Opening my mouth, I'm ready to apologize when his tail _whacks_ me over the edge of the creamy, half-made bed and I end up with my head into the door on the further side of the room. It's white, too. It's soft. But not soft like the covers. "Let us just get a move on already."

Dynal, shaking his head the softest, which I hear from his only gently brushing hair, laughs as well: "I suppose brothers will be brothers. Shall we be off?" His shadow descends upon me and a hand clasps over my arm as he tugs me off the ground again, this hand then ruffling my hair. Wow. I'm such a child. That entire momentum just takes a moment from me and I pause.

"We are not actual brothers, Dynal!" cries Raptin once more, but his voice plunges as he mutters, "or suit yourself, I suppose, as you will not listen to this plea of mine." He scoffs softly, case closed long ago.

Turning around, my scales all shiny in the sun, I offer this huge smile. "I love you, Raptin~!"

His response comes right back to me, the way he's facing so opposite of the window that he's shrouded in his own shadow. "Hush, Dino."

Of course. Finally, the three of us, my dad, my not-brother and me, head out from the suffocating purple of the Fossil Center, of course after they've taken in the gawking effect that the morning sun has on a person who lives in space mostly. It's not like they aren't allowed to move in here; I think they started to prefer the starship over land or something. But it... it helps in ways: apparently once they get a few missing or broken or something functions working, and they hook up all the dolls again, they'll be able to search more deeply on where Dina is on the planet.

Dina.  
It's still...  
Kinda hard to...  
Think about her...

Upon reaching Beth, her smirking face, and the pink booth that drops people off to dig sites, Droplet's gone and done us the favor of slinking out of her big blue medal and resting her dripping, dribbling fins on pink over wood. A great big smirk rests on her maw. _Why, hello there, Bethy Beth. What a nice day it is, no? I'm just gonna..._ Her body stretches into the most languid, space-taking-up position possible. Why am I not surprised like at all.

Droplet comes into the picture, but the picture's invalid until a relatively larger, cocoa brown creature, his eyes bright as gems, also comes into that picture and they're together, because I swear, even when it was just the two of them and they hardly knew each other, they've always been a pair. We have lovely Harei and not-so-lovely Lone, and sorta Iggy too, but Droplet and Pippy, it's always them together just as much as it can be. _D-Droplet..._

 _Hello, Piiippyyy~_ Her tail casually waves for him. The face Beth's making at me slowly grows nastier. Her dull, brown hair and all that makeup only gets more evident of irony the more hate that she shows. _What a nice day, isn't it?_

 _Droplet, why are you acting so... weird? Again? I suppose that by now this is the norm for such a girl as you, bu-but I can't help myself to worry, a-and you know that, Droplet!_

A snort. _Why yes I do know that. And, hey, I get worried when you cry! And you cry a lot, Pippy. A whole—hey! Don't start crying on me!_ Oh man, her voice is cracking. _P-please! D-don't cry! I d-don't want a s-sad Pippy!_

Wow. What the heck just happened. More confused than I'm gonna admit to, I shove past the krona and the seismo, resting my own arms on the pink and staring up at taller and older Beth. Her nose has the longest, biggest slant I've ever seen on a person oh my gosh. Behind her, twittering with her face bright red and her eyes stuffed in nervous tears, stands the redhead Sue. Her arms twist together as her gaze flutters to the ground. She stays right behind and beside Beth: that height difference is almost staggering.

My dad and brother slip along beside me. Dad, being the kinder person he is, raises a hand to wave the slightest; Raptin just looks like he's sulking or something. Maybe he was trying to tell Dynal again that I have no brothers and he knows it, he's my dad. But I guess it's too late for that. Quietly, I wonder if deep down, my dad... wants to bring him into our family. I mean, his family has always been close to ours... and now he's the only one left... and there's no way he'll want to marry my sister—or me, for that matter, just putting it out there. I... I think I'd like that.

Anyways. Back to the most boring of Beths and the shakiest of Sues. At some point, between her boredom showing through and taking out that weird, black, webbed machine that she uses on her eyelashes and Sue stuttering and us trying to figure out where to go in the first place, and Droplet and Pippy being Droplet and Pippy and then Harei joining out of nowhere, it takes some time to reach any sort of turning point and thus consensus, but that's okay. I just like being around all of them at once. It's a good... a good feeling. It just is.

I'm not sure why, but after the crazy shiny boat sails in and the guy with the brimmed straw hat enters us, and we're moving, I'd in the end asked for reliable—enough—Rivet Ravine. I... haven't been there in awhile. But I'm only just remembering now that it's either ride a mine cart up into that forsaken land or use the gondola thingy that's attached on slim metal to a seat to crank up and up and up.

Darn it, Dad, why can't you fly with your wings? Why the heck can none of my vivosaurs fly, for that matter? Why the heck is this dig site so messed up? Why the heck do I wanna go here in the first place?

Never do I get those questions answered, but that's because they're stupid or obvious or I chose Lone over a flying vivosaur, back when I was still building my team of lovely idiots together.

He drops us off once the gondola's been accessed and now I really don't wanna do this. Of course, it's not until I manage to stake off all of my fears, yank my hand over the crank, use it, use it, easy, easy, not too fast or else I'll start to fall down again after it gives but not too slow so that I keep sliding weakly down anyways, bit by bit of morsels of claimed land until this awkward, horrible creature is pinned as I reach and scramble onto as dry of land as we're getting this high above the earth: and it's here I realize none of the people I came with went this way. Like, what? There's only one gondola. Why aren't they here. Why didn't I notice this until now.

It takes awkward seconds of waiting as I begin to nervously walk in circles that finally the face and snort of Raptin make themselves present, his lighter arm poking my stark black but shiny one. He's taller than me by a slim, aggravating chunk, but besides that we're nearly one and the same. "Where were you? How did you... shimmy your way up here so quickly?" He's genuinely confused. My gosh.

"What the heck do you mean, 'shimmy your way up here so quickly?''" I squeal back, "I went the freaking right way! On the gondola! Yeah, that shabby thingy that you guys weren't on for some reason! I mean, what the heck? Like, wha—"

His hand comes out of nowhere and covers my nonsense-spewing mouth. He waits a few seconds as I continue ranting in his hand until it's moist with residue. Then when I start to shut up, his golden eyes wander over me and he smiles and murmurs in his deeper, somewhat dark, but stronger sort of Raptin voice: "There was a hole toward the side of the structure that the kind boater pointed out toward us on the way here. I believe it has been present for a time as well, so to why you used a different method when a staircase of sorts was right there..?"

Shamefully I mutter into his hand that I didn't know and nobody ever told me.

"Ahh. That is alright, Dino. You found... your own way up anyways. I do not mind; I am just happy you are here as well with us. I am just happy that you are acting much happier and seem to be this much more full of yourself. Like the Dino I know."

I move back from his grip and ask him quietly, "And love?"

His face screws up again but there's the tiniest of laughs in there too. And love.

We kinda stare at each other: he overwhelmed by the surging dig site that is Rivet Ravine, I overwhelmed by the fact that he's right here with me. I do remember, if I dare think about... back then, that he was with us, too. But he never liked Dina. Never. I guess because of... the monster in her, that made others worried about her state too. Well, whatever, I-I love her a-and that's what matters... and now it's time to stop thinking about it before I start to cry.

 _Awwwwww... Dino, are you okay? Do you need any hugs? I-I can give you hugs, i-i-if you want... I can give you hugs wh-whenever you need them, t-too..._

That... that's great, Harei. I honestly can't hold in the random, bubbling laugh that slaps into me after she says those words, all sweet as they're dancing in my head. The golden ourano, upon making me laugh, accidental or no, squeaks on the spot as she falls back on her bum and Lone's tiny, purple body joins her for no apparent reason, she squeaking—happily. Lone's still quiet; she doesn't yell much anymore. But whatever we love her all the same. Yeah, we love her.

Casting a sidelong glance toward the awestruck Raptin, probably from the combination of hearing my vivosaurs out of nowhere and of course this massive dig site of stifling browns and rocks and mine carts just sitting here, right in front of him, high in the sky, covered by clouds, stuffed in McJunker's soot: all for us. For everyone. My gosh, I had no idea Dynal took this long climbing up stairs. Or maybe he's taking his time on purpose. Or maybe he's gone exploring or something.

Nah. He's probably watching over us somewhere. He knows who I am.

"Tag you're it!"

Like the ditz I am I _rap_ my friend's arm and take off sprinting as fast as I can, even as I know he's faster and that was rude and there's no way he'll want to play afterwords. Plus, I'm so bad at this. I'm always the spontaneous tagger but then I'm out of the game for the rest of it. Wait... Raptin knows what tag is... ri—

His face is right in my face as he casually taps his finger onto my forehead. "You are it, no?" And he's gone. Darn it, darn it, I'm so bad at this. Ummm... now how do I first find him, cuz I don't see him anywhere, and how then do I, like... attack him? Glancing up—oh my gosh, the sun, it.. it's so freaking bright, waah.

In my pockets, voices conglomerate.

 _Lone wants to plaaayyy!_ Of course you do.

 _Ooooh... u-um... I-I'm not very good, but it would be fun, too! I-I think! Yes, we should all play and have fun, if we can!_ That's Harei, if I've ever heard her before.

 _Droplet?_

 _Pippy?_

Okay, great, now we have four new players. And judging by a few of them, though I know they'll be in their smallest form—same size as Lone, then, since she'll shrink too just a bit—as they run around, I mean, I'm faster than Pippy, I'm faster than Droplet sometimes, and I'm usually better at Harei when it comes to not tripping very often. Usually. They all spill into their colored forms and, as presumed, take off. Before Pippy gets very far at all—my poor, slow, adorable seismo—I tap the top of his brown, scaly head and he squeals and it's so cute but yes I'm not it anymore.

As expected, Droplet whispers things as she waddles up to him, allowing his sandier form to touch her wet one as she executes a plan to go hide off in some bushes really stuffed in berries to—she's waiting to catch Lone. Oh my gosh. She's gonna try to catch Lon—

 _VVVVWEEEEEEEEEEE—AAHHHHHHAHAHAHHHH!_

Lone's sent flying off as a gigantic, wet paw slaps for her—and misses. But Lone, being both herself and oddly hungry, even though vivosaurs don't even need food, crawls up toward the berry bush again and stations herself, waiting to see if anything will attack her again, which is of course the bane of her existence because it means Droplet just waits for five seconds before slapping the ground at her tagging her this time. _You're it, Lonie!_ she cries rather happily.

This is the time of Lone: where the tiny whirring thing begins rampantly squealing as she dodges around the place, tearing through shrubs and rocks and small friends of people as her cyan eyes go wide and somehow, from somewhere far off into the distance, I swear I hear a yell of proclamation, of being tagged. Oh man, so she did get Raptin. But before her speed bowls over she rams straight through me and I slam to the ground and oop out of air ow ow ow.

Kinda dislodged there, like a... like a pendem or something left on its back, shell and everything sticking out all awkward, I cough some. And here, this is when the great, gentle, calming smile of my father blocks out the sun and pulls me up into... into a big, warming hug. Oh my gosh what did Harei say to him. But it's... it's nice, to be hugged by my dad, so I don't go yelling about it or anything. I guess this entire time he's just been on the sidelines, waiting and knowing that someone's gonna get hurt.

I lean into him without trying to move myself.

The game inflates further out of control once Harei's tagged later because she's slow and she has huge hips and she's clumsy and she gets nowhere fast, so it's not until Pippy tries to cough himself up as a sacrifice—but he's even slower—and then Droplet ends up doing it for him because she's Droplet, that we get anywhere fast. At some point, a scraped and annoyed Raptin does show his face again, himself moving much slower than I deemed possible for him, so at one point we all sit together on the musty dirt where I know there aren't any random holes to trip us up, and in the background we still find the chatter of my excited vivosaurs.

Panting, tired, dirty, panting, panting, we lean on each other for support. Raptin being taller, he takes the manlier stance as my head rests on his shoulder and his above and nuzzled against mine. We're just taking in huge, agonizing breaths because why is Lone so agonizingly fast and why is everyone else so agonizingly strong and good at tackling and oh my gosh done done done help us Dad. He's watching and laughing softly as he sees our tuckered states mirrored upon each other. I wonder how Jkonna'd feel if she was here. Maybe that's why I didn't choose Knotwood Forest, in the end the next one over. Because she... wouldn't like that. If we went to Knotwood Forest. I'm just proud of myself for not taking us to Secret Island, because that is a very dumb place to take yourself with the other dinaurians. It just is.

Between our breaths is sandwiched Dad's wording: "The both of you... silly. Just like brothers, as I have said. The both of you make such brothers... ahaha." That tiny grin of his. "Either way... it is nice to see the both of you interacting so kindly and well, in all due means. Dino? Do you... perhaps, have you ever heard of a... 'moel?'" Wait.

"What?"

A small smile only grows stronger. "Oh, I only saw the name... the Moels, they called themselves boldly, on the sign affront the hole you did not take but Raptin and I did. 'Lemo' and 'Oh-Mel,' they also called themselves?" His soft, thrumming tone goes a little peculiar on the thought of it. Lemo... O'Mel, I think it is. Those guys—I heard them yelling, or at least I think it was them, it was those names at each other, at the Nick Nack party, but otherwise I don't think I've heard much about them. "That is fine, if you do not know. Heh... I was marginally curious to an effect about who they may be," and murmuring, he leaves it at that for a time.

Turning over, I eye Raptin. "Hey, uh... you know that girl that was with us a lot of the time? Not your sister—um, Rosie?" Without speaking, he nods at this. I think I exhausted his speaking measures earlier. We're still a little rough on the edges, but he did talk a lot and I don't think he cares much for many words. "You think she's doing okay? I guess you know the whole story, and, um, is it..?"

Nodding. "Yes. I suppose she will be okay in the end. Not now, but..." Silence again. I think he prefers it that way. But I don't mind it, and I think Dad prefers it sometimes, like right now, our legs out and eyes for the big, bright ball of warmth just above us. It's all warm and pretty and gleaming, saturating us in its eternal warmth. It's always there... like a lot of things. Mom.

As we're being quiet and sleepy, a new voice suddenly splits out of nowhere into my head. _Thou shalt seemest to tire? You? Dino? Tired? I never thought you would run out of energy... although, I hast to supposed you must, for you do sleep much and do much. Strange, strange child._ Groaning, that deep and strong tone's trying to get under my skin again and I don't like it...

 _Iggy... what are you doing..?_ In the end, I decide it'd be better not to scare him away, or ignore him, like I usually do. It'd probably be nicer to try to listen to his woes for once, since he has them so much. My mind idly trundles around the thoughts of Rosie and the moels and whatever else there is, Mom, Dina, all of them, but I'm training on Iggy now, for... a couple of reasons. One is because I want him happy... and I've been trying to figure out what sort of combination of things will help him, though it doesn't look like much has happened so far.

 _What art I to do?_ He listlessly mumbles back. _I feel as if my purpose has all but dried, although perhaps it is better for me, with a rotting brunch of insane ancients attempting to feast within life again but in the souls of you young living ones. Like the one did with your sissy, wherever she be. Perhaps it better that I am free of such a burden, but..._

Here it comes. _You miss Thomas, you want Thomas back, both of you ancient buttheads, without Thomas you're useless, alllll that._ I know. He tells me way too much of the time. The sun, still heightening above us, seems only to grow hotter in place.

Iggy softly growls in his nonviolent Iggy sort of way. He never was big for fighting. _Listen, already, pesky Dino, you child. You and Jkonna are together, and Raptin wishes to join you as well, as you can easily tell. But what about me; o lost and lonely me? I wish to say I could find comfort in our pesky friends, but I cannot... especially as Droplet and Pippy come oh, oh so together as well._

 _Iggy_

As I ramble and ramble unto my fears unto the boy, I cannot help but addle in my mind if this is the wisest of ways to tell him how I feel. I believe it must be. While I trust the boy, the strangely too strong boy who was able to findeth of me in the first place, he hast less of an appetite for other things. Like listening. Like understanding at times. As much as I do adore the frig—Thomas and should be fine to live this life without him, to see him in another: all of them, they are all so very restless.

It hast been blankly obvious in the showing of others. The parents of the gir—Jkonna; the Guhnash fellow and his original awakenings; that... what hast they called him—Zongazonga, I believe? Yes... he had stirred and possessed as well. Well then he is a good-for-nothing thief like the lot of them, I say. Oh, yes, I do say. But I suppose they are restless and without Dino finding them going crazy... and now I fear for the health of the frigi... of Thomas, excuse of me. He prefers being called Thomas.

I can hear him in the breeze. I can hear him in my fitful attempts of sleeping. Thine shall be lost, he sayeth of himself, thine shall be lost to the nothingness of the world. It is all going rampant in these remote parts, and without the insight of Dino... of that boy... I fear for Thomas's safety. There are still chances; there are always chances. At the very least may we please bring him back into the world?

Perhaps it is a bold accusation on one so young: perhaps he leans into the age of the "adult" by his meager scrap of a nineteen years, but I am hundreds of millions, since the age of time, as I father vivosaurs, as do Thomas and the others, and most usually one must be much older if they ever wish to listen to us.

People are so naïve of late. What hast become of the elders, why, I cannot say, but they are dispersing by the load and goodness these ancients... it is pathetic of them. I cannot relate with them where I am now, in my flaming yet sedated form. I only wish kindly of Thomas. Yes, yes, I see: Thomas this and that and everything Thomas, but that is simply my way of being. We are connected, no?

Are thou and thee not the same?  
Droplet... and Pippy? And others... always others...

And if I have such a foundation of this seizing wisdom, and I knoweth how to saveth of him, where dost the otherwise even try to begin?

 _Dino?_ And he stirs again, if not of the slightest. I suppose now would be the best time to disturb of thou thanest of ever. To simply allow these seeds to plant in him, that I must see Thomas, that we must at least save of his poor soul who dost not deserve of this divine punishment of old. Zongazonga's possession and then that of his daughter's—I fear to wonder what sort of unearthly wrath nature of time must have for us all.

But... if we are to at least save him..?

Lots of others are affected, but perhaps with Thomas we can end this malfunction, we can pull the plug that his sister has living in her and end all of this annoying turmoil, to show nature we hast the sorrow of what we hast dost to our souls.

We... how very strange of me to find an affliction with these others. Though I supposeth it was of destiny, perhaps in the end.

 _Dino, if I happen to hast stirred in my mind a potential way to save of Thomas... could we perhaps embark on..?_

What the Bullwort fellow did to my...er... friend... I cannot take back. But his soul still litters out there having been wronged by a near insanity, and we can still bring him back. He be there... he be there...

I feel violating, as in those likes of the others who pester his soul to join them. The Saur-head and the Nick-nack and the... and _she._

 _So... please... from the goodness of your heart, may we at least try such a ploy?_

And once we try this.. we can try more... and I will try not to rush the wilted flower of a male, and perchance we may saveth of others and... end the insanity of these sadistic fellows of ancients. That would be rather rewarding.

But I must take heed; I can easily rip his poor mind, shatter his heart to the core, if I am too fast in teaching him.

Dino... my... my friend, may we?

 **Yay, Iggy chapters where he complains about Thomas and mentions the stuff Dino's been too scared to think of! (like his sister ;w;)**

 **Dina: A-ah... wh-who now? They... described a p-po-possessed... gi-girl... w-with the Zoazo-**

 **Me: IT'S NOT YOU KOFFKOFFKOFF**

 **Dina: ;w;**

 **Me: SHHHHH IT'S NOT**


	21. Rt: Follow Her

**Me: I have been so excited for this chapter. Oh my gosh.**

 **Dina: Hee..hee... -smiles, looking away- I as well...**

 **Jkonna: -diga-doesn't particularly care-**

 **Rupert: ah... -looks away too, embarrassed but not going to admit to it because he's Rupert-**

 **Mistress: -hee... Silly dearies... all of you silly dear-**

 **Me: MISTRESS MY CHILD I MEAN RUPERT'S MAPO QUEEN CHILD AHHHHH I AM SO PUMPED LIKE 20 PERCENT MORE NOW**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 21: Follow Her

 _Rupert_

A special plane, this one. Unlike the other ones of bulkier, harsher design, sleek in the ink of a rugged, rigid darkness of thoughtless, listless, emotionless black. Still, even those, without their sleek skill embedded into the heart, their purposes are far less crucial and endearing than that of this cherry-red spanned plane, the tops draped in a sunset and the bottom an ice cream of a vanilla, the somewhat small proportions of twenty scattered seats spread about a lithe and square chamber. The cockpit a vast unknown further ahead. Todd awaits our arrival. For now, although, she is still all to my self, her curled form appearing to have slept in the covers and pillows heaped into her scoop of a chair. Its hard but soft back allows her figure to still be safe even in one place.

My own seating arrangement has been placed beside her, where I can watch her, be with her. My hands find hers in the mass of warmth stuffing her, those tiny, nigh porcelain specks of shimmering white I hold so dear to me. The hands that belong to the girl I hold so dear to me. Dina...

Her eyes, while nestled shut, are restless beneath the lids of snowy silver. She has not slept for a time now, a space of time overruled by her fear of the nightmares that lie wait in front of her. She would rather go without the image of them on her tongue and indulges in not describing them but finding the comfort in me I wish to give her; only these ones she finds so... horrifying... she feels it would be better to allow me to see her into what is going on. She... trusts me. It must be hard for her to let me know what horrors sit inside of her and wilt within and try to harm the precious flower of a beauty that she is. Because... she does trust me with it... and it must hurt, those dying petals a dagger in her, to tell... someone she must care about... all of this.

But she trusts me with it. I want to... I want to know how she feels... I want to understand her... my poor Dina... She's everything for me: to have given me a hope and a joy when I saw nothing... as I was alone—it is hard to believe, but she trusts me. She must... if she takes this time so often to rely on me and to... cry when I am not near. The monster in her, the one ravaging her—it ravages me to see that this is what is becoming of her. A flower as frail as she deserves all but this... if only I could take this pain from her... I wish I could understand her and tell her... that I... I... Simply, I want to do more for her.

The nightmares attack suddenly now, swords in the sluicing shadow of night... in the earl gray dawn of day... there they are... there they are... She has no control over them now. I fear and know she is slipping... she is slipping from my grip... Never was I particularly gifted in a level of strength, although perhaps I did have a prodigal level of understanding with the likes of Mistress and my vivosaurs, but I... still, I wish to hold her up and lift her from these troubles, never to allow their condescending waterfall of a sinewy darkness to ever take her again.

She is kind. Dina... and she wishes for others to be kind as well. Sometimes her own footsteps prevent her from what she wishes to resolve, her own clumsiness or self-worries or the fears of others... I wish to strengthen her... to help her... I cannot lose her...

If one so bright were to light my path when I all but lost it; why should she be allowed to fall so clearly? I need somehow to find a way to light this own darkness within her that hurdles her, that tore through her mind so long ago, that eats at her now... What hurts her stings me as if it were one of my own wounds.

Gently, gently... A hand lifts from her own little fingers and caresses her cheek. Although perhaps it is scaly now, it oddly suits her more than whatever form she had prior to this. She stirs only the slightest, lips expressing a cute, small moue at the minimal disturbance until her head leans into my hand. It is cloaked as it most usually is by the fabrics of black, covering up all but my fingers, covering up the scars embedded within.

When she first learned that... the way she leaned into me and the way her small arms held me tightly upon it... She cares for me... I only wish I do the same, that my own feelings and worries, my attention to her gives her joy like she does for me: her existence alone a wondrous delight. She knows it not but at times now, small pockets of enclosed and hidden spaces... I do smile. I have begun to smile again. She has taught me and has yet to see it. A little... shy to this new encounter, I have yet to know when I will let her understand this feeling inside of me... I am shy about this...

The fingers stroking her cheek lightly move over to her back, the other mirroring its companion as they peel her from off the edge of her own chair, one moving closer to her bent legs for better balance and gently I pull her close to me. It... would be difficult to lift the blankets and place them here with us so I do without. Perhaps my own warmth will be enough for her. Task at hand completed and well to my taste, I again hold her tightly, she nuzzled closely to me. It is... a very nice feeling, to have her. Even the shadows under her gaze seem a mite endearing to me: for they are a part of her, a piece of her... and she makes me smile all the slightest.

Torn, graciously, has fallen asleep some time ago. He does not know. He would yell in his although playful as well irritating sort of dislike I would rather without. I prefer these moments where I hold Dina this closely, her light, gentle orange hairs covering my shoulder where her head rests. Waves crescent her chin the slightest in its moon-like bend. I prefer her close to me... I prefer her near me and always near me...

To my feet, where my discarded boots lay—it felt a mite wrong to wear hard soles in such a posh, commodious setting—the small and spiny form of a royal blue creature curls around the many blankets as they spill. One specific, dark spine cradles over one eye, shaded as it always is. Mistress stirs; her quite elegant snout preens up into the comforting air.

 _Rupert... would it be too childish of me to state that I rather like this coiled position on the ground? Oh, I feel like an overweight, furry creature who just minds its own mindless and simple business all the time! It's strangely oh so very nice, dearie!_ A mapo queen, she tends for the striking and dare I say glamorous approach of sparkling, although her obvious care for others and worries poke through any skein she may uphold. She lays lazily in her new position. Carpeting of salmon puffs around her, tail flickering gaily in the fronds.

Nearby, a smaller, honey-colored creature, she finned and all the gentler, squeaks. _Oh, Mistress, I totally understand that! It... it is super nice, hee..._ She's soft, a wafer-like hold on the standing of life, her glittering orbs turned nervously on others most times. Sunny can be just as endearing as a combination of both Mistress and Dina at times. Somewhere, off and pompous, I daresay I would find Gyntis. He, fluffy on the muzzle and the neck, the head and tail, the rest of him a blizzard of blue, calls himself a rather rigid e-raptor. The final one rounding out my current group would be Tessa... whose whereabouts I seem to never find.

My... father... had found my prodigal strengths early and farmed them for all of the worth and gold he could attain, killing my mother in the process, just to be sure nothing stood in the way. To have emotional contact would... ruin my "perfection," which not until Dina remained undisturbed. Small puddles of wakes had tried to disrupt me before: Mistress, my single gift from my long... decayed mother; the rest of my family, grandfather and cousin who I do find reasonably compassionate to me; and, but of course... Luk, if I dare. Perhaps they called me prodigy, but my own vivosaurs seemed mere, blurry tools out of anything for a... very long time.

It took the strange souls of Torn and Trikko before such a scheme could ever be interpreted differently for me. Dina... Softly, casting my light gaze upon her, my lips softly brush her forehead and, while my grip is soft, I hold her a little tighter, simply for me.

We never mentioned it, but it appears my own strength in battling has again surpassed hers. I think it makes her happier than anything; that my own showings as a... prodigy, my own gifts, have begun to reveal again. After her teaching me in the gift and beauty, the strange warmth provided by love, I was able to learn again the true path to follow... Again, I glaze over her...

I whisper her name, this for myself as well: "Dina..." It's gentle, soft, a little cold, perhaps that of a snowfall in the winter, but I suppose that is me. She... seems to rather like me. It's a... very nice thing, to share these feelings. With her...

Windows align opposing walls in the plane, those donned by the wings. These strips of glass provide majestic signs of the clouds, the sunshine outdoors, which I suppose is a sight to behold: all the sunshine I could ever ask for is who I hold with me. To have Dina... it is all I could ask for, and more... and everything...

Mistress giggles from her casual, lolling perch.

From a somewhere shuffle in the folds of what blankets seat themselves in my own chair—our chair—an aquamarine disc situates itself with that of Mistress, soon forming into the stout, red-and-blue figure of none but the tricera Trikko. _Well, hello, Mistress,_ he chirps gruffly, _I am so very proud of your seeing the facts and realizing this relationship is... well, perfect is improbable but I sup—_

 _Trikko!_ she cries in earnest return, _shame on you!_

Backwards, he stutters, _Oh, shut up. You know my one true pairing is the facts, and it's improbable for—_

 _You're horrible, Trikko!_

 _Sh-shut up, Mistress! Fine! I'll call it perfect; now shut up!_

From her corner, the small marple skitters over toward the other two. Sunny's gaping maw widely preens. _Uuuhhh... Mister Trikko? Miss Mistress?_

Cute, the titles she unnecessary crowns to the likes of him, as well as my dear mapo queen who would rather not hear such a label from another. I suppose she, Sunny, the little yellow marple, must be younger than the two before her fossilization, although not by all the much. Thinking of my humble quartet makes me wonder if I ever will find a fifth to add to their throng. I would rather; Dina's own troop rallies at a sound round of five. I do pertain on my person a small allot of fossils, one being a head as I have seen the shape of the finned snout hidden in, but I cannot tell if I ever will revive it. Simply, I remain indecisive.

Maybe... one day...

 _Oh, dearie, don't worry about us! Just a harmless spat because Trikko's head is thick and he believes in no more than his silly, silly 'facts.' And please, dear girl, don't go calling me such a title! I've already asked against it; I'm just Mistress, please. Although... er..._ Softly she ends her speech and glances sidelong for the stouter of their bluish duo.

 _Yeah, pretty much harmless, I'd say. Mistress is sort of the new Torn around here, because Torn and I unfortunately have become too close for me to feel it alright to insult him. And, ugh, don't. Don't call me that. I am no such 'mister,' that's just a putrid thought. The facts would defy me if I were a 'mister.'_

Somehow his entire bout was expected. Gently, feeling her stir within the heat of my arms, I hold her closer to me, softly... softly to lean in closely to her and lay my lips upon her cheek to whisper her name where my breath lands and pull back again the slightest: like a tide, its sparkling waters lifting toward shore only to pull back again, and endless game, never to fully entwine. Although... no... I wish to understand her, to truly... be on this level as her... to tell her I know what is going on... that it is hard... that it is okay to feel this weak sometimes because of how hard this is... and that is why I cannot leave her... because of this danger and because of how much I... care for her... this emotion kneading, pleading in me, don't let go... And I cannot.

But I wish to feel her burden, too... to... share it with her, if I may... to be on the same place with her... Would she prefer such a thing? if I were to somehow intensify what I know on my own? to find a link that can pull us... closer? Would she rather that, if I may? Dina... Her figure lay waste to all that comes before her but actual rest; gently my fingers uncovered by the cloth of my gloves press over the sallow, dark spot beneath her precious orb and I wish I could feel this pang, so that I could truly... be with her, in these times of hardship.

We know that as it only becomes ever the more obvious that the despicable creature inside of her only intakes more of her soul that by the end of it, eventually, Dina will not... be Dina. She will be the... creature... and she will be lost inside of herself. Possessed... almost. As if sharing her body with two entities... somehow. And she will be gone then, until... until...

Like the moon or the stars surrounding it, or like the peachy yellow clouds in the swooning sunset outside, like the color Torn's eyes once were prior to his preference of grape over lemon, like golden tears, my eyes begin to lose their focus at such a thought. Such a... true... thought. That... she... will be gone. Eventually. She will not be here with me... she will be ever the less present in my life. Absent. Someone else will... someone else will...

Feeling voiceless emotion curl in my throat, I cover my lips and look away from her, unable to, for the moment. The sight, the thought, of losing her... inevitably unable to hold her... when she is weakest and when she will perhaps... need it the most... and to know it, to know it until the bitter, frosty, mindless end...

Dina... no... I realize in my stupor that unconsciously I had begun to hold her tighter than I tend to. Preferring more a gentler grip that still keeps her close, this tightness must result from my fear of... being so far from her. My grandfather and cousin, Scatterly and Dinu, both paused at the pretense... the pretense of there being a way, when this happens, to...

But we still... don't...

Dina...

Wordless creatures hobble and hop into the basket-like scoop of a chair, with its protective back overhang placing Dina in this temporary safety until the plane is due to land in Nomadistan and that tournament she was so thoughtful into taking—for Todd, for Todd—begins. Torn continues to loudly snore, perhaps he is faking the scene now, while the others... quietly summon themselves. How... embarrassing of me to desire this comfort they irrevocably give me. Little creatures, clay-colored Aladee and monotonous Reyna, bright, rainbow-tinted Sunny as well as... Mistress. Nyra, too, the sweet birdlike wonder, her wings thick and heavy with long, cottony feathers. And, if I am not mistaken, Torn seems to display quite an aura for the likes of her.

Still she stays closest to me, still my arms hold tightest round her, still she does not wish to go, for she is awake in the gentlest of senses that she could leave as soon as she wishes, but she rather would... stay with me.

Silently then, I wonder, if Dina and I have come... does that mean the likes of Pauleen are on this plane as well? While my attention hasn't specifically watched upon others who are not Dina, Pauleen is... her friend. She has friends. It... brings me joy to know she has others to share her feelings with, although I doubt I could ever... connect in such a way with them. But to have she, and to have she alone... she is everything for me, and she is all I could ever wish for... sweet Dina...

The others circle and warm around me as I gaze quietly for the lines of glass alerting to windows outside. It's still a... little hard for me to look at her. I still feel these emotions in my throat and the blurring sensation just in the pinch of my orbs, the feelings I nigh began to shed, and so I watch. Clouds zoom rather slowly past. Others break quite easily, torn by a wing, and split and fall the faster. Peachier clouds have become more common now; hopping like islands as they split and bloom and push around in the expanse of others. Bright, harmless pink, like that of the blush adorning her cute face at times, like that of... of...

 _Plonk._ I do believe the other chair has been fulfilled now. "Rupyyyy! It's my fave boy, digadig!"

Pauleen.

Wonderful.

Slowly I drag my gaze unto her brown-tinted skin, not as full blown as others but still gingerbread and quite marginally there. Her glitzy grin, accompanied by emerald eyes shining deeply, knowingly, watch over me as my own gaze to her. Her thick, pink curls—that is what it was—are lined by strange, yellow tints at the edges, like her bangs and the sort: and all of this for some strange reason she has not pinned into usual two pompom puffs of hair but left curly and thick. It swoons and fills her. A new dress of the sort, this lanced with puffy white around the edges like snow caps, the rest of it gleaming rather atrociously in a magical fashion, embedded in bright blue snowflakes. All of these match. All five or so of them.

Her grin digs deeper. "Oh, Rupy, you silly boy."

"What have I done to—"

"Whhhyyyy, I oughta! Oh, how fun!" The chair, with a _sssskkkkkkurrrhhhhhhhkkk_ , drags ferociously closer to my own shared with Dina, who still refuses to open her eyes. Not that I would blame her. "Hrrm... well, digadig, you still have yet to tell the diga-Din-Din you love her and you're holding her like that, and I can teeeellll you were about to freakin' cry, digadig! I can teelllll! Why you not crying, weirdo? If you have feelings you shouldn't hide them!" She babbles on and on and...

Perhaps it is easier for me to hide them, then... if I do so this often that I hardly notice a difference any longer... No, no—I, for certain, understand that Dina sees me... and Dina can tell how I feel... I do not hide around her any longer... It would feel... very wrong...

Beneath Pauleen's usual bubbly scheme is a longing for me to speak in return. She... must... worry for Dina being in... my own possession, instead of the feelings of another—such as her. I know how she feels for her. These sorts of trivial emotions never truly hid from me, perhaps I becoming a master in seeing how another is being so similar to my own facades. Before Dina, I... acted cold and distant to diminish the likeliness of others pestering me into their lives, but... I only wished for... someone who...

How her head tilts to one side in the slightest, the blush resonating her cheeks, the deepness of the orbs and how she bites her lip... she wishes for me to say something in return. In fact, I soon realize the drone of her conversational tone has ended.

"Ah! I apologize," I mutter in the vain attempt to correct myself, and, scattering for any sort of topic, "why are you coming to the kingdom of the north?"

"Mmmm?" She recovers instantly. That is a nice thing about Pauleen; it must be easy for her to accept the flaws of others and move on... after the mask incident to hide up one of her own and... she broke Dina's hand... "Oh, well, I grabbed a bunch of diga-dresses and I'mma smuggle them over into Todd's room by going there myself. Seee... the diga-dress he was in when he was... really injured and brought there... it's all muddled, y'know, so they offered him some of their own clothes, and, like, diga, Todd was whining about how awful their own diga-dresses were so he begged I get him some of our own. Which I... grudgingly... diga-did?"

It is not until now I realize my small smile from earlier vanished. Perhaps my eyes appear... inviting enough. A friend of Dina's is acceptable by me, and... not many people are in such a category. And it's not as if Pauleen is a bad person by any means. I like who she is; merely, I... it would be wrong to smile in front of anyone before Dina can know... and otherwise... it is not so easy for me to open up to others... Although I suspect I cannot be... fully... blamed... when one sees where I have come from. Trust does not come easy for some...

Either way, she still is a kind and endearing female and I would rather not harm her in any way. Harming is... something I would rather avoid simply in general. Pauleen, her face brighter, happy now that I have contributed, completely loses the glossy pretense of hiding anything, being it something she would rather avoid, after that mask, and she begins her bubbly speaking over the fabrics and the designs she decided for, to which I learn she and her vivosaurs actually do make much of their threads on their own. She asks me raptly if I do not know any of her—five—vivosaurs and begins labeling them one by one.

Well enough I manage to keep track of all of the moments she graciously speaks of, this Flimp of a dimorph ace, the likes of a red and male Nyra, just about, as well as her dearest Verily whom she has had for a long time, I take it, and Blocko a rather heated, red-and-black menchi, and of course how could she ever, ever forget Sivan the furry ball of a vivosaur, and would it be Slit? Her single other air vivosaur, a rather shiny radox—Verily being a v-raptor—and oh, how long she can speak of these creatures, I can hardly believe. Apparently they are the dress-making scene she wished of for a long time and is now quite proud of the vivosaurs she has found.

Before her thoughts can wander, I must... I must ask her... "Pauleen?"

Immediately her gaze flickers toward me.

"Is it... hard... at all? Is it hard..?"

Silence for a moment, surrounding my probing question,which I cannot blame. It is a bit of a... an almost touchy subject. Upon hearing this from me, a sugary little grin dimples her cheeks and she murmurs, "I knew you were a good one, Rupy..." before hurriedly continuing on, grinning softly, "No... naaw... I'm just happy if she's okay... and she's happy... and oh boy oh boy you make her sooooo happy, Rupy... nobody else freaking diga-does that for her... y'know? She hasn't had the easiest life, and you, but..." She gazes off, eyes bright with merry.

It is a silence but yet a comforting one.

Eventually Pauleen wanders amok and I believe she sights Gyntis off in the far corner, his half-furry half-scaly figure freezing under this new feeling of a new sight, and she begs me in turn for a chance to dress him, and I suppose she can dress him, why not? Therefore she takes to the ground leaping, her dresses for Todd quite visible stored in the edges of her own dress, and she is gone in moments. I do not know how long she will be over in the other direction. Longer than one would expect; she gets sidetracked quite easily.

Quietly, for no reason in particular, my mind begins to wander as I watch over my sweet little Dina. I try to curb the thoughts of... of what may come, and try to focus on right now, right here, with her, as it pains me to... look at this in any other light. I wonder about her family, and what sort of creatures may be still... searching for her—but would they not have found her already if they were searching? I trust her biological blood family is... not similar to mine.. she does not deserve such a thing... and that perhaps it is a long, complex story as to why her family members are unable to come and find her now... that perhaps they are still living and breathing... and they will be okay...

I worry for her... even if I understand how futile it is, I worry for her...

Is it shameful that I wish for these loved ones to take longer so that I can be hers alone for more time? Would it be so unrighteous for me to wish of such a thing? I apologize... I cannot help these feelings that have fulfilled me... that have saved me... that have changed me... for such a greater good... and now I cannot lose the one who invoked such a magical transformation in me, no... I want her... I wish for her... for Dina..

Alone with her again, other than the oddly silent throng of vivosaurs around us, I hold her close to me and gently, gently rest my own head upon her little shoulder. Her hair is soft against my head, peachy, light, softly waved, beautiful... beautiful... her scales soft like skin but softer as they pillow where I lay, my hands around her back, fingers softly stroking her. My sweet... little Dina... How I wish to stay with her... to always stay with her...

Her scent rests among us: a soft, musky odor like that of a vivosaur, calming, sweet, it reveals her personality with that of a gentle tug... her caring for her vivosaurs... simply her sweet, caring self... whether she sees it or non... Behind it I can detect an earthly smell of that of someone who is outside often...

Perhaps I can tell when secrets are held, but that is yet another reason of why Dina means this much to me: she dislikes them. I recall, at the very germinal seed, the start of our meeting, she tried to hide back the fact of her foster parents, those... cruel individuals, she wanted to keep others from seeing she was an amnesiac, but she had reasons as well... and if someone understood her and asked to sit with her and talk, I feel like those time-worn barriers would collapse. She dislikes secrets even if she had her own: we all do; it is what we do with them that differs the being.

Torn has secrets too. He's in denial about love with Nyra and everyone but she can see it in him.

Dina's secrets... remind me of that. When others pester her it's quite easy to find it... but that is okay... I am here now... I want to protect you from those others, Dina... I want to keep you safe... And yet now I cannot, now I fall to my knees in front of a gate that permits none but that thing inside of her to one day escape, to be her, and Dina to fall, into the place where she does not belong... not at all... I only wish to hold her and to protect her from these things... but there are some things I cannot protect her from... things that not a soul can protect her from...

I can only hope that... when it does begin... perhaps this Zoazoa will... not be so bad... Apparently she has found homage, as a... wounded ancient... the child of the filthy—and deceased—Zongazonga... she has found safety inside of Dina... some part of her body... long, long ago... I cannot understand such a thing, and I am sure Dina feels secure in much less... But I am here... I am here... I am here...

Dina... why..? Why must... I... lose you..? I cannot bear to let go of you... so why must... why must...

You are so kind... you are too kind for this... You listened to me at the very least... you were quiet... you wished to follow me... and you did not grow upset when I began to follow you quite lividly... and when I told you about my father... and after you saw him... you only wished to keep... me... safe... But you were already safe, I so thought, when I found you... but you are not... you are not... and I cannot save you like this... I am going to lose you... This reality... thus in this reality... Ah...

"Ruu...pert..?" She is stirring. What brought her into the solid ruins of the waking world, or as far away as she could get from it, so soon..? She was tired, very tired... as we boarded here... She is tired often now... although this can help... my poor Dina... "Ru...Rupert..." Her soft, sweet words further bound in my name the more she whispers it toward me. I like... hearing her say it...

As she wakens and infiltrates the air of this world again, her arms gently hold me as I realize mine had fallen away at some time, and her hands... one rests softly on my back, clutching a swatch of the red fabric of my coat she so, too embarrassed to say it, loves. The other... touches my cheek... it is warm, oddly, her fingers which so often now are frigid. Where her thumb so gently rubs... I realize why she had awoken... from where my head lies now... it must have been easy for me to... accidentally wet her... and... surely enough... there are small droplets resting along her shoulder now. I.. ah... I am sorry, Dina...

Silently, she whispers, her head so close to mine, her breath so warm upon me, worried, she is worried for me; "Rupert... wh-why are you... crying..?"

My throat catches again. I begin to work myself against it, to try and undo this change. As I realize how much emotion has been eked out of me at this time, I am reminded of the smile I nearly shed to her prior, that I did show her nigh sleeping eyes, the ones that will not see me in such a state. I wonder how so soon ago it was that easy to offer such a gesture to my sleeping... darling...

And I whisper back, "I am sorry, Dina... it is hard... I cannot lose you, and yet..." I must.

"A-aah..." She quakes, just the slightest, in her hold of me, as I place my arms back where they belong around her. Before I have a chance, her own head gently moves towards mine but as our foreheads collide they knock together in the vaguest sense of pain. "Aaahh! I-I-Iiii..." Her face blooms rather brusquely as she ducks, embarrassed and shameful of herse—

Dina... it is cute but... do not push yourself so hard... Goodness, Dina... It's okay...

And then it is my turn to place my own hand on her soft, silvery cheek, to where I can maneuver so our... our foreheads do touch, and I can see so deeply into her endless oceans of amethyst orbs, into the small tears she accidentally formed herself. "Dina... aw, Dina... it is okay, it is okay..." I gently tug on her head with my fingers, so that, for a moment much longer than a moment, I may caress her lips with my own, and thus pull back... I wish to speak with her right now... to hear her sweet voice... It is a song to my heart, to hear her, and perhaps she is not gifted in tune of voice but that matters not to me.

"Rupert... I-I am sorry... I.. I do not wan-wanna g-g-go..." she pules lightly and her gaze searches for something else to rest on, her cheeks those of petals of the rouge red of a rose. Her nose, the central point, blooms all the redder.

Shaking my head, gently, I, like a question, pull her eyes toward mine again. I want to... see you, Dina... do not worry so much... please do not worry so much... Oh, how I must have worried her, with this pain I go through... from the notion that I will lose her... "It is fine... not your fault, Dina, not yours in any way at all your fault... Whatever I can do for you, I will. In the span of a single heartbeat I will go to all forces I can use to save you... to bring you back again, whenever this so does occur..." Sometimes I feel guilt for what I do... because sometimes it almost feels as if I am not doing this for her sake, but my own... because I could not go on without the soft little orange-haired girl by my side. It is fact, like those of Trikko's, for me. But perhaps she is the same.. ah...

"Dina... I am sorry... I wish to understand you... to truly... if I could share this... pain with—"

"N-n... no! No, no!" She's apologetic in stance, eyes dark, face upturned, for cutting me off, but this appears more important to her. The whites around her eyes seem to swoon. "No... no no no no... I do not care for you to go through this... no... I do not w-want you to... feel like this, Rupert... it is not a... very good f-feeling at all... I do not w-want you to be h-hurt... I am happy that... y-you are safe... I do not know what I would do if... you..." It dawns on her. "Oh... that is what you... aaaah, I-I am sorry..."

She feels... guilty now... I wish to calm her, for this at the very least is an act which I can change upon her. "It's okay, Dina... Do not worry... You have much you are going through, much to focus on... I wish to help you, if I can... I wish to be here for you... in all ways I can..." Her gaze has grown dull as she must think about this situation I have been in... but Dina, no, you don't worry about me... we must worry for your sake now: as much as neither of us like it, it's you who... you're in...

that thing... ah...

"Rupert... y-you mean very much to me... y-you know..." she mumbles off very gently, as if trying to explain something new to me... but perhaps she is the one who must be gentle for herself... as she is in a quite weakened state... "I-I know that th-there is... p-people like P-Pauleen and the others but you... But you... You are... It is like..."

"Yes..." It's not... an easy wording. It is fine... I know... I know, Dina... "You mean... very much to me as well..."

I can but stare deeply into those beautiful, violet eyes of hers... they seem to tug at me, just the gentlest... to comfort me in their wake, all because they are her eyes, the eyes of Dina's which I care for like I care for her heart... her sweet, kind heart that warmed me and saved me when it appeared I would be nothing in the end... It occurs to me that if I can see so far into her, she must look this deeply... into my own eyes... right now... She told me once that... when I look at her, they become very light and gentle, the harshness and the coldness peeling and melting right away. Just to see her...

Sometimes I feel guilty in the way that she does have those friends who she enjoys... and out there there must be a family for her, similar to me but... I do not... I think of others whom I do not have... I only have her... Maybe one day... maybe there will be others... people who we both cherish... But even so, all... all I have is her... and yet all I need is her, truly, in the end... she is... all... for me...

It soon becomes evident that words cannot say how we feel, they cannot try to explain these emotions that we share... but I do not mind. I wait a moment, a smile in my eyes, as I know from the way her slits of eyebrows knit and how her eyes thoughtfully shine that she is working up the courage to do it herself. Ever since the beginning... yes, even then... I could always tell when... she was about to kiss me... It is fun to wait, the feeling of thundering trepidation in my chest on the verge of unbearable, but a delicious unbearable as I watch her eyes slowly inch toward my own pale lips and she cutely bites at her own softly, her cheeks more a pink than a red here.

Until she takes the surge, the movement, her close to me, so very close that our breaths collide and become one... she and I... together... and that I truly feel her with me... and I know that at least right now... it will be okay... it will be okay... she is with me... and I... I...

Again... I cannot believe it... but I am... happy...

 **Me: First of all vivosaurs don't smell bad just wanted to say that  
Second of all I'm sorry if the chapter was too pda for you if it was I can understand I usually can't look at what I'm typing when it's romance... xD Super duper fluffy Rupert/Dina romance that I love but ohhhhh my gosh it's almost too much, hahhahahaha... At least, it feels like that while I'm writing sometimes, but maybe I just wanna try to play corpse party. I think I mentioned getting the first game once in the old series? Hahaha... well, there's this new one I've been trying so hard to play but it's terrifying, haha... **

**Tim: Yes, of course it—**

 **Me: -tosses a random sack of flour at him- WHY ARE YOU HERE. YOU DON'T BELONG IN THIS STORY.**

 **Tim: -smirks-**

 **Zoey: HELLO!**

 **Me: YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE**

 **Tim: You mentioned terrifying... so therefore I was summoned..?  
**

 **Zoey: I came because Tim came.**

 **Me: I thought you hate him.**

 **Zoey: Oh I do**

 **Me: of course. -just leaves-**


	22. Ja: A Thrilling Outdoor Adventure

**Jkonna: Today is a good diga-day, digadig.**

 **Me: Yes why do you say that**

 **Jkonna: Rupert and diga-Dino have stepped aside... Bliss is being less weird than diga usual... annd, uhhh... you're scared out of your mind because you like Corpse Party.**

 **Me: And that's good**

 **Jkonna: that's very good**

 **Me: why**

 **Jkonna: it just is**

 **Foster: -Because that makes sense.-**

 **Jkonna: I hate you Foster.**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 22: A _Thrilling_ Outdoor Adventure

 _Jkonna_

Today really just seems like one of those diga-days: when you stick up your feet, lie yourself diga-down, and let the morning pass you by in a salty, briny wave of the oceans. It's... it's like... it's not that it's lazy and we shouldn't diga-do anything, just slog in the guilt of nothingness, oh no no that diga-description is about as accurate as Foster, which is to say not accurate at all, but it's... it's calming. That's it. Peace. Reverie. Oddly, I feel... free. And oddly enough out of all the rhymes I feel tracing in my head, Bliss diga-doesn't comment on a single one of them.

And again in washes that peace. There's always that small spike of a rock in the waters, that jagged thought that Breckan's mom got so nervous about planning earlier she forgot how soon her son's birthday is and it's... like I have less time, I guess, but... but it really is okay, like he's been telling me this entire time. It really... really is okay. Peace. Calm. Okay. Okay... It's strange to think of it like that now. But it's a nice thing, too. A nice strange. A wonderful sort of strange I would love to get used to.

Thankful. Yes. I'm very... thankful for what's right in front of me. I diga-don't think diga-Dino has the capability in him right now to feel this same rushing wind of calming gratitude, but he's also... got other things on his mind. He can be excused from a turd load of many things still as this whole hot mess continues to gush. But I'm still here; I'm not leaving, especially as all this gab of change-for-the-better impacts him. It's more noticeable than the amount of blushing Pippy commits nowadays.

Then is there... anything else I'm supposed to be, like, worrying over right now? If... if he's really fluttering on his stable wings all over again, then... is there... anything else out there?

Oh gosh let's not even consider such a heartless wonder.

Slowly, I diga-draw my hand through the blinding frenzy of fire that is my hair when stuffed with such sunlight. Staring a little listlessly through the great rubble still coating this air and this soil, I smirk diga-down at the unstable, clay toes of mine that hold onto my perch. Rather strongly. Especially saying that Foster and Bliss are out there somewhere, slowly diga-demolishing all this carnage to great, gray globules like soil. Apparently we're gonna plant flowers on this island, soon. Diga-Dino's diga-down there somewhere. My excuse for not helping out on my own is that I'm watching over him.

Icy orbs take their time cutting around the bubbly atmosphere of the old abandoned BB Base. Where flowers will be planted. And I think they're gonna build something here, I diga-dunno what just yet. Something nice. Something big, perhaps. And warm. Comforting. Good and homey. Kinda... like the orphanage, where diga-Dino started out in. That's... what the ones who end up here diga-deserve.

No, not Saurhead or Bullwort or those three weirdo goth kids. They diga-didn't look all that interested. Not that I can blame them or anything. Pff, maybe Foster will live here. Uh, not.

Diga-Dino, being the heroic diga-ditz he is, has taken the time to volunteer and clean up this diga-dump so they'll built whatever they're building over the corpse of the broken base. Apparently they'd used lots of... nearby fossilized bones to build this place. Thank gosh we're killing it. That thought's less than fun.

So anyways diga-Dino also took the time out of his diga-day to nab some flowers. And I know exactly where they came from. But I diga-don't say it. I'm sure he knows that I know, but I won't say it. I'll live with it, I guess... it's not like the flowers are gonna start telling me to respect my elders or whatever. They're pretty, diga-dappled little things flecked in color and puffy petals. With stems. That like, hold them up.

No. I came with him, but I'm just going to sit and close my eyes to this light, the one that diga-dapples me like petals to a flower and collects me and tries to brighten me a little more, which, by now, might be kinda hard since... I'm feeling kinda sunny all on my own. It's a nice and very new, once missing emotion. That's... always something to look forward to... most surely... I guess my sky is much less cloudy now. I'm freaking mimicking that boy. Of course I am. We're practically shared under the same horizons.

Casually loping up and beside me, beside the sleeping raptors just at my one side, there to my right plops the squishy figure of diga-Droplet. Her snout fans out toward the rising light and she smirks heavily at it simply because she diga-does that to everything. _So I'm taking that you like it here,_ she murmurs, _at leaaaast a little bit. It's warm. Oh, yes, it's very warm. I like that. Warmth. The water is warm too. Kinda like Lone was just in it, but it's just... it's nice._

I shrug. _I mean, it's not so bad, digadig... but we got other stuff to get over. Like, oh, I diga-dunno, his sister? All that stuff, diga?_ I diga-do have people like Vivian and diga-Doug out there too. And the best diga-dad as well as king of all time. Though of course my only comparison to all this is the king's son, and he diga-doesn't add up to all that much. Oh gosh I diga-don't wanna imagine diga-Dino ruling over anything. He would like. Diga-do horribly. Bad.

Out of the corner of my light eyes, I diga-do freaking watch him, I diga-didn't lie very much there. How his glittery, scaled form arcs in his breaking of the stones. How he's actually for the first time in forever transformed into that fancy battle form thingy of his, where he looks more like a striped version of Lone than anything. Pippy, his cocoa head raised mildly in greeting, offers a chipper grin at the sight of his diga-dear friend helping him out as they kick rubble together. Lone's trying, her big beak pecking to the diga-depth of the effort she has tucked in that tiny body, but she isn't making much progress.

 _Uhhh, you sure you're not supposed to be helping the others?_

 _I'm taking a break._ Sauntering her head, side to side, she glints her similar eyes up toward me. _I'm allowed to take a break, ain't I?_

Blinking a little diga-dully, I try with, _But like Pippy. You're leaving Pippy alo—_

 _Sh-shut up! I am not leaving him all by himself in the spitting image of 'ever!' So like, don't think I am! Cuz that's dumb! And like, horrible and bad and not happening like at all, ever._ She glances arrogantly into the sun and diga-doesn't mention any searing white pain. Of course not.

Bomba, stirred by all the chatter, sneezes. Ashes come flying, ghost boogers, out of her nose. Let's pretend that diga-didn't happen. She mumbles under her heated jaw, _IIIIII dunnoooo... if you never are far away from him, I dunno if, like, life wants that to happen. I remember once Jkonna, back when she was baby, like,_ lost _Morie, can you believe such a preposterous, horrible thing? Losing Morie? And so that was for months and it was all lonely and stuff..._

 _Shut up Bomba you're not making sense and you're not helping at all. Gaaah..._

She pouts; _I feel like I'm helping..._

In the end, Morie has to keep her from both setting everything on fire and feeling useless. I still diga-don't understand what they see in each other. Apparently I am blind. Or maybe they're the blind ones... ugh, but I can't say that when their emotions are so freaking, like, strong, and it'd be mean... and... oh, diga-Droplet, stop staring at me like that, go stare at Pippy or something. Awkwardly I flick at her. She growls that I should get to work too and I let her know that my strength is about as much as Lone's and no I diga-don't feel like being a moral support today.

And again, it's only me, really. Even with the corner of my head occupied by those two raptors of a feather, they're quiet and sleepy and I diga-dunno what the heck they were diga-doing, perhaps worrying about diga-dumb things. I'm just quiet, too, though, so maybe it's all only in my head.

My body swivels over, hair flying like the wind, as my gaze rolls over him. My best friend. My most very trusted confidant. Simply... diga-Dino. Himself. How his body at first, with childish glee, tears up and through the rusted mess of rock like a novice, in the churning, in the sowing of what must into diga-dirt, the freaking lowly scum it now is. How it's simple at first... until it gets relatively crazy and hard and his hand cramps and it feels like everything is against him until things like diga-Droplet and Pippy prop him up along the way... Harei... Lone... good ol' crippling Iggy... I shudder... and until he begins to sag... like he's beginning to end, almost... like he can't take it anymore...

Until a galvanizing spur washes over him like the water, his spiked spines, scales, all of it bristles in a new energy that gently, methodically feeds the flame back into his needing, burning body until he's moving again, and he's better and he's getting better, way much better, until it's simple again, only they're all with him. They all... all of them. Everyone. And it's okay. More than okay, way more than okay. When struggles happen, such an amount of effort from his group and from his connections cuts that off in its path.

Gosh... it's funny to think of how honestly strong that boy is. It's a little weird but my goodness he's not... well, he's not _that_ weak, or any of that at all. He knows what he's diga-doing—well, mostly. He's also diga-Dino, so there's always that healthy chunk for room of error.

He's... in control. There isn't some unhealthy cloud of gunk hovering over him and commanding him this way and that; he's in control.

Calmly, like this couldn't possibly be such a big diga-deal, I lift from the sunny bits of rubble at the top of one pile he hasn't quite yet attacked and glance over for him a little curiously. Diga-don't move all that much. Just standing and... staring some. It's weird. It is very weird to see him reacting so smoothly, so softly... I mean, back in the diga-days before this even started, he still diga-didn't act so lightly. So I guess he's still changed. It's a little impossible for us to come outta this sorta thingy unscathed. Well, it's not like he went, uh, crazy or something.

 _Um..._ stirs Morie. Her feathery rainbow head lifts as she peers at me, her mango slices of eyes using that guilt-trip effect she knows I hate. _You going to actually do anything? You should help him, you know... Kinda rude just to let him do all of this work..._

 _Sh-shut up Morie._

 _You can't just say that, Jkonna!_ I find it amusing she says that after I already committed the crime. _W-well, come on! Would you like if it Dino was acting this way to you? You'd wanna go check on him... or whatever..._ And she pouts.

And she's Morie so I can't diga-disagree in any way. _Fine, I guess... Whatever, diga..._ I know, yeah, she's right. Not very nice to diga-do all the standing and staring... Shrugging, I stuff my foot diga-down at the tumbling bits of rock and stone below, slowly, lifting hands and feet, trying not to, like, fall, I clamber my way below the great underlying sense of the sun. Diga-dipping into the shade and the shade alone. It's colder with all the shadows. I freaking diga-don't like it.

Bomba and Morie follow me. Their tiny bodies, similar in size and shape, and feathers, scribble off unto the cooler diga-dirt below. Their talons squish menacingly in piles and piles of mush diga-Dino's making. _Oh, dear... What if that tower toppled, Jkonna? See? At least consider the safety habitations that—_

 _GRRRRCHH._

Morie's faintly cut off by a new crushing noise. My head flies to another side of the island, one more reduced to graying muck than anything else, but all throughout the cracking isn't coming from over there. And diga-Dino is not one to cause a whole ruckus on wreaking stony havoc; he's more the... silent diga-deadly type. Which is like completely obvious from before. Recalling that he's still in vivosaur form, a curious hand, shaded by all the diga-dark under here, pokes out for his scaly tail that I now must touch. Of course it swivels, and where I diga-dive it swivels, and when I get back up it swivels, only to bonk its hard surface on my head as I struggle to get back up again. Diga-down and under.

Foster comments something about the mannerly outcomes of hitting a girl so we all ignore him. His finned body makes the most stressed, squishing noises as he hits at rubble, and while it's working or eroding with the extra slap of water and everything, it's freaking creepy to wrap one's head around. Pippy, his gigantic paws breaking _crrkk,crrkcrrrcrrrrrrrrrrrrrkah!_ and then Harei's golden head butting up at the stone, _burrburrrrrrrburrrrkk-kk_ and then of course there's the whole show in the corner: _spah-spah...spahhhspahspahspahspaaahkspurshhh_. It's just plain... nauseating. But then again it's Foster, what diga-did I expect.

 _I've never met a soul kinder than you,_ he diga-dutifully mutters under his breath.

Bliss, like the ancient and far more bumpy sister to Harei's sleek, curvy body, bumbles about beside her, smacking her head into random bits of rubble and thus helping out significantly without feeling like she is. Her skull's a bit stronger than some, I'd say. Which is good. Her brain needs a lot of protection when you realize how much her skull suffers. But eh, she's okay. When I revived her I took much more care at that age when it came to diga-digging and had to have only the perfect head for her.

Of course, Foster diga-doesn't follow this tradition. Honestly I wanna know how he's not constantly in pain by all the cracks in his bones. He is one big squishy water monster, but like... that's still a lot of bones sticking up into creaky cracks. Oh gosh, now I feel bad. I'm sorry I... diga-didn't find you until I was older?

Promptly that tower Morie was talking about diga-does tumble. Okay, great, so she has yet another reason to feel like every little thing I diga-do needs precaution and overlooking. Diga-darn it. She's like the best and yet worst mom you could ask for. The amount of diga-disciplinary over-protection is staggering. I diga-don't even understand Bomba. Well... she's extremely simple, so that diga-doesn't make any sense, but like... why all the fire in the first place? Maybe it's just who she is or she like... was raised, all that time ago, in the water, by water creatures and... that's why she's... oh gosh, that'd actually make sense.

Bliss is Bliss. I'd rather not cross her. She seems like the only one who isn't periodically annoyed by Foster—but then again, that's all on me, so... Still. She like... she yells at him a lot, but she's never serious at the same time. Yelling is sort of mostly how she talks, anyways. The whole... poetry thing... randomly stopped... but...

 _Wait._ I'm supposed to be helping. _How the heck am I supposed to be helping?_

Bomba shrugs halfway through. _Umm... I dunno. Make me and... Morie... and like... Lone... do stuff? We're weak so we're pathetic but like there's something right? I dunno... maybe... but I could be wrong... I'm good at being wron—_

Feverishly I squeak, _Shut up, you're not being wrong, my gosh! Di-ga-diiiig! Sheeeesh. That's not a bad idea, either. My goodness, digadig. Bomba chill. And Lone, get your purple bum over here please and thank you._ Of course she diga-doesn't. I raise my voice and eventually she hobbles on over, half of her body hastily wrapped in old, purple bandages diga-Dino must've found hiding around in the base's diga-dried windows.

Oh. Gosh. Guilt. Now I feel horrible. It's like this massive load of unforgettable, sour diga-dung has been forcibly hauled onto me because of this arid feeling of what I've diga-done. Of course Lone's already tried multiple times and now probably needs to recuperate. She can't possibly make it through everything tirelessly. Um, um... gosh, what diga-do I diga-do now... um...

 _Let's go break stuff,_ appeases the tiny, feathery, scaly, beaked, furry, webbed thing in front of me.

I practically breathe fireballs on her. _LET'S GO BREAK STUFF, YOU DIGA-DUMMY? YOU'RE LIKE HALF BROKEN YOURSELF!_

 _Yeah, but,_ she blinks a little sorely, myself now noticing the tiny wrap around the lid of her eye, _I wanna go break stuff, so let's go break stuff. Like, Imma good guy, so I totally gotta break stuff._

My eyes half close at her because I can't take this. _Oh my gosh, Lone, diga-don't push yourself. You're wrapped up in the cloth of old BB Bandit clothes cuz that's all we have and why the heck are you letting yourself get so injured in the first place? Freaking... diga-don't push yourself so hard! We're gonna freaking love you whether you try your hardest or take it easy! And we really diga-don't appreciate a Lone accidentally getting in her own way!_ I've never had the chance to rant at Lone before. Oddly, it's a nice feeling in my heart. Feeling like I'm helping her, or whatever.

She's shy about it, but I think she's silently grateful. She silently likes it. She's not like into hiding stuff from others; she's just an embarrassed little nasaur. Therefore, Lone is adorable. Well... sorta. She's still Lone. Perched upon her rubble spot, cyan beak sailing in the air, squinting those eyes of hers to try and look as tough as possible, she again asks to go break stuff.

 _Lone, you are not breaking anything. Diga, go like... pester Foster. That's your new job. And while you're at it, make sure Harei and Bliss diga-don't actually hurt themselves. We diga-do not, I mean not, want you guys to get so freaking injured!_ Once that's over, her head cocks to one side and she chatters amongst herself.

Bomba, head tipped from one side, observes; _Hey, um, maybe you should listen? If you don't, well, for some reason, I feel like that random blast of fire that happens sometimes is gonna happen soon, so, um, it'd be very bad if you didn't listen._

Lone perks up. _Aren't yooouuu the one who—_

 _No,_ Morie and I grumble together. If Bomba so strangely diga-doesn't find herself guilty, then what the heck, she's not. She's just weird. My gosh, honestly, they're all weird. Lone's diga-draped in bandages from BB clothes; Morie's the most over-protective mother I've ever met, and Bomba is... she's just Bomba. Her name is freaking weird. I diga-don't know why my younger self named her that. Morie and Bliss claimed to have their own names; I think they were sparing themselves from a similar fate.

Somehow, we miraculously get Lone out of the situation before someone certain unknowingly belches fire. It's here I remember back when my vivosaurs and I used to diga-do a lot more of the fighting and everything... before diga-Dino... diga-Dynal... yeah, that. Bomba's loose cannon aspect was honestly amazing. It's random and strange but I wonder if that'd make her a talented although sporadic cook. Morie would love to help her in such an aspect. Food's not, like, super necessary, but we're better with than without every once in awhile.

Eying my best friend, he's moved more toward the center of the mountainous terrain by now, this characterized by the new block-like structure he and the others are attacking. You'd think they'd be diga-done by now: there's six of them total. I guess it just shows how stubborn freaking Bullwort was, Bartholomew Bullwort, back when BB was still a thing and he'd owned this spot of land.

Oddly, the more its stains of once ago are wiped away, the more peaceful, warming, simple of a nice home this looks to be. Nothing like a farm, judging by the sludgy gravel yet to be coated in flowers, but still some warm home to be remembered kindly. I'm about to ask diga-Dino what he wants to call the island when I remember where we are and what we're doing. He's kinda busy right now.

So my gaze flutters toward the raptors, who I am in charge of keeping from harm, and check out the bits of pebble and rust we can peck out of here. Lone, in the corner, loudly begins screeching, still carefree like she has been, and probably always will be. Her cyan gaze glitters like gold, a shining sort of gold that isn't supposed to be any sort of ugly brown yellow; it's glimmering and priceless, a murky light blue, special in its own Lone way. Eyes are kinda like that... none are the same... and none can be replaced...

Diga-don't they call eyes like the window to the soul or something? Well, lookit me, I could sure as heck _see that._ Aren't I hilarious? No. No I am not. An acrid taste crawls into my mouth at even the attempt of the joke. From somewhere faraway, the awkward laugh of an acro shatters my vision.

Bliss, lovely golden monster, diga-doesn't stop for a few moments there.

My eyes sort of glaze over as the comforting background noise of vivosaurs faithfully diga-demolishing rocks and bits of fossil. Whatever components and bones for heads and the like are snapped apart will heal together again as time will tell and cover it with the sooth it always has. It's like the comfort you can always count on, a blanket in diga-disguise.

And finally, under the guise of working in a group and making an effort to change, the sludge-like squish of the earth begins to mingle with what's beneath that, actual peat of soil, and diga-Dino, diga-denouncing us diga-done, raises one hand and smirks wildly at it. He looks extremely unfriendly in his battle form. That smile diga-doesn't diga-do any favors either. A great, blinding light engulfs him, and as he sheds this layer again, he's just his regular old tall-as-heck of a boy, my best friend. The spikes of black hair on his head, one edge traced in weirdo orange, stand sleepy and diga-disheveled, like someone stayed up all night. I guess it takes some out of him to diga-do all the diga-destroying, and then of course there's the part of him transforming.

That... must be quite an experience. It's weird to blink about the place and imagine all of our little friends, to imagine diga-Dino capable of morphing himself into one of them. Of course, it's not his real or preferred form of himself or whatever, but it's still something he can diga-do. Kinda... crazy. Just imagine if I had the power to flash into some hulking Bliss-like Jkonna-colored vivosaur. Like, that's him, only for some reason he more resembles the strangest cross of Harei and Lone, his colors. Whatever.

"Um..." I look away, embarrassed suddenly. "How... diga-do you feel?" My hands cup each other underneath the brim of my vision. I can't really... focus on much right now. Gosh, what's with this fizzy emotion all bottled up in me?

Worry. Worry, I guess. Pff... I wonder if Morie's proud. I wouldn't call it a mother's intuition, because never diga-do I ever wish to go through that fun experience, maybe more on behalf of the fact that I'm his best friend, and honestly, I follow him around everywhere like a lost cause. He diga-doesn't care much for the thought of... transformation and fighting and all that. Maybe it's not really a battle. No initiation for fight, no fists up, no flames flying. But I know how he feels about that sorta thing now. How his vivosaurs register it, too. Diga-Droplet, the honest-to-gosh scariest out of all of them, the most battle-ready we're getting... even she...

That's okay.

Slowly, his eyes roll up on me, slate gray tacked on ice, and he offers a wean little grin. "Hmmm? Uh... I mean, yeah, fine. I'm not, like, on fire or anything. Right, Bomba?"

 _Right!_ We assume this a good response.

Dino raises his mushy tone. It's never been that strong or harsh, no matter the wording or intentions. Welcoming, a little bit, warm, that hint of sarcasm he usually never touches. Like the sun beating diga-down on you. It's a good warm, though. A nice one. "So yeah! Not on fire. That's always good." He pauses, slumping over and steering himself. He lands his butt with a _spurrrp_ on the edge of the island, where it's less mush more mud, more sea flowers combing the ocean skein. "Mmm..." His hand loudly splats against the other edge of the mud. "Join me?"

I diga-don't wanna sit on mud, diga-darn you. That's just gross. It'll be on my bum, and unlike you, I have a tunic that'll pull me diga-down and uuuughhhh fiiiiiine. I pout when I land by his side, though, whether it's where I belong or no. It's wet and cold. A little squishy, especially when I shift. If I stay more or less still, frozen in one special position, it's only one spot of me covered in the filth.

Screw you, diga-Dino. I diga-don't like this.

"Pfff... you look so mad."

"Because I am mad?" No, I'm not mad... just mildly annoyed.

Blinking slowly, he scrutinizes. His great orange face scoots all the closer to my own peaty one. "Naah... if you were really mad, you'd go all Jkonna on me and yell. Well, if I was Rosie... I dunno if you have it in you to yell at me, though I guess that's my fault sorry?"

"Ha..." I laugh in the softest. "You sure you diga-don't like it, digadig?"

"No, I do. I find it quiiiiiiite relaxing~" Of course you diga-do. I shove at him casually, the other hand diga-digging in beside me and I try to ignore the small, splitting sensation of mud in my nails. Not all that odd, he refuses to shove back. Okay then. "Oh, but, like, being serious for a moment there, uhhh..." My breath nearly hitches. My gosh. Calm diga-down. It's not like when he says that he means... "This really, really reminds me of way back when, y'know?"

I guess I'm a little more relieved now, but, like... "No, I diga-don't know, diga-Dino." His eyes wander toward me again, and my eyes narrow some. He hasn't really talked much about this big, airy way back when we speak of. Well, yeah, he was an orphan in the diga-dumb orphanage and now he's here because of some letter or another. Everyone knows that. Vivosaur Island isn't very big at all and spreading news is particularly easy. Never really asked about all the diga-detail packed into those years, though. I feel kinda guilty now; I mean, seventeen years was a great chunk of his life, and he's diga-Dino.

He shrugs eventually. He's lost his eyes to the clouds swirling slowly above. "Ehh. It... it was for a really long time that I was in the orphanage... So, like, memories, all that, y'know." His voice, gently rough, diga-deepens just the slightest. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder about them all. Like... what happened to them... where they are now. The island isn't that far from here, where the orphanage is... where all the kids without guardians are, like, supposed to go..." Yeah, I know, but I diga-didn't. But that's okay. I think Morie counts as a parental guardian. "And uh, I had a friend there. Name's Cooper. And there was Nosh and all that... she's real nice, and real pink, and most of the time the only girl around. Y'know... Cooper looked a ton like you. Same fiery hair, only his was spikes like mine and redder. He wore all red. His skin color was tan, but not super duper dark like yours."

Oh gosh, what if it was... nope, got nothing. I'd know if we were related though. Like, Watcher and all...

"But he was nice."

"I'm nice."

"Of course you are."

I snort. "Sometimes... diga..."

Glancing up curiously for him again, I mumble, "What reminded you of it?"

His eyes, diga-distanced, slowly revive themselves again, aiming toward me. "This island. Maia was bigger, had trees and a lake and everything, more space than just a good place for some home and a bunch of flowers. I guess a couple other things, too... like you. And just... thinking about Mom every once in awhile reminds me of Nosh. Heh... Morn Nosh... guess I can call her by her name now, but it still sounds weird.

"Also, um... Diggins was mentioning her. Morn. Ms. Nosh. Whatever. Said that... like, Saurhead and Bullwort reminded him of her, since she used to be their friend or something but one day grandly decided she wanted to raise children who had no home. Haha... she's real kind... I stole her pies from the window anyways but she was still so kind..." He lets out a soft, satisfied sigh. Thinking about the lady and the boys who raised him to who he is now. Without them, he'd be a lot diga-different. Oh gosh, maybe he'd be even more gentle and diga-docile and thoughtful, like his diga-Dad. Joking but not... overdosing it. Which he'll diga-do sometimes.

Tame. Orphanage diga-Dinos are not all that tamed.

That's okay. He's still my best friend. Maybe he... wouldn't be, if it was diga-different. Like if he'd chosen me instead to go battle Guhnash, and... I was the one gone... Maybe a lot of things would change... Well, uh, I like things the way they are, mostly.

"Hey, Jkonna?" he calls gently, "can we... visit them again, someday? Cooper might've left, and some of the other older ones, for places to go... for exploration, but maybe not, too. Can... can we go see them?"

I giggle. "Awww, of course, you adorable diga weirdo." He giggles, too, his gaze lighter at that aspect than I thought they'd get. Diga-doesn't toss back my childish joking or anything. I... I think... the thought of seeing those people again... makes him happy. Well, my favorite diga-Dino diga-does happen to be a happy diga-Dino... Not that I'd diga-dream of refusing.

There's a birthday party to attend and a diga-Dino to get out of the motions, but of course we'll have room for... anything at all he wants to diga-do. I prefer him when he's happy... he diga-deserves it...

 **Eheh, this is the shortest chapter in the story. XD they can't all be that long! It's kinda peaceful, though, more symbolism than action, hahaha... if you recognize any of it, perhaps. It's something I've been sort of leaning to work with as I become better in writing, hahaha...**

 **Yay, peaceful chapters!**


	23. Ja: Out of the Blue

**Me: Hooray for long weekends! Haha... now to write more. X3**

 **Jkonna: ...yay?**

 **Me: What does that mean?  
**

 **Jkonna: Like, diga-don't diga-die or whatever. Let's not stress ourselves out here.**

 **Me: But I'm not stressed out**

 **Jkonna: YOU DIGA-DON'T KNOW THAT. YOU NEVER KNOW THAT**

 **Bomba: -DOES STRESS TASTE GOOD?-**

 **Morie: -BOMBA, IT'S RUDE TO INTRUDE.-**

 **Foster: -HEY BLISS CHECK OUT THAT RHYME-**

 **Bliss: -SHUT UP YOU BUTTHEAD-**

 **Me: and then we all became friends.**

 **Everyone: -lots of disapproval-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 23: Out of the Blue

 _Jkonna_

It's supposed to be peaceful, quiet, almost freaking serene today: no running around, no overexertion, just an attempt toward gentle ensconcing, y'know? It's time off. I worry for diga-Dino and time off always helps, and diga-do I not care if I'm being too soft. Everyone always prefers pillows to pebbles. Pebbles, especially a whole turd ton of them, jab into you. Irritating. Painful. All the thus bore diga-Doug's second floor, not-so-secretly known as the attic of the Fossil Center, although this name in its entirety is why we get to be left alone up there in the middle room near our room but not quite—everyone assumes he'd forget to diga-dust.

Oh, he diga-does forget; but not as often as everywhere else. See, this is a prized room, and he likes to keep it for himself and Vivian and all the interns because they have these movie nights and my gosh I can smell the popcorn wafting into my room at night when diga-Dino's conked out and if he's not on top of me I like to sneak out for some. But sometimes I'm trapped in eternal failure, because he's just like that. But diga-Doug always leaves some out for us in the morning. He's just nice like that.

Well, when he remembers.

It's in the very midst of all the hallways connecting in the attic—these hallways all particularly short, like legs off the body—and to one side, wedged in the corner, are the stairs back diga-down to the Fossil Center's main campus. It's nice and diga-dark in here, not all bright and eyesore, which is always something to look forward to. Of course, the place is trashed with bits of some shows Tiffany's been hooked on what she calls her "animoo" or whatever that means. It's not all that hard to stack the tracks and shove them into a corner. I almost pile them into her nook until diga-Dino, half through a yawn, mumbles, "Heeeyy, I wanna use them as a foot stool."

My nose wrinkles. "That's diga-disgusting," I answer, as I am a girl and everything. "Go use Pippy or some pillows or something. Diga." To which his face further flares.

"But I wanna use the caaaaseeeesssssssss!"

"Whyyyyyyy?" I squeak." What freaking diga-difference diga-does it make?"

He blinks obviously. Gray flickers in and out of his eyes. "They smell nice."

A small giggle sneaks through me. "So you wanna go diga-date Tiff, now diga-don't you? Is her perfume just that much on you? My freakin' gosh. Girls are right; you diga-dummies sure—"

"Aaaaahhhhh shut uuupppppppp. I don't wanna hear iiiiiiiiiit," he's moaning and moaning and moaning, just like Foster. Of course just like Foster. The old beat-up box in the corner with the screen, as diga-Dino diga-describes it—I've never really seen televisions before living here so he calls himself an expert from the orphanage or whatever—it's what we were gonna watch this old battle on or something. I think he's trying to inspire himself to be some hero by fighting again. Which is... weird. He's just weird in general; I mean, he is diga-Dino. If that scaly diga-dummy wants to watch videos, well, that's fun too.

I shove the heated bowl in his hands, candy-colored, stuffed with salty, fluffy goodness. Try to ignore what I've just caused in order to crawl over and begin tinkering at the television, blindly poking at nobs and squishy buttons which diga-doesn't diga-do much. The small case of diga-different diga-discs that diga-Doug owns lie beside me. I'm not really sure what I'm diga-doing. Diga-Dino would know, and he'd fix all the problems, if he, like, got up. I'm feeling that he's too lazy right now to—

 _mrooop._

"Get your feet offa me! Unhand me, digadig!" Wriggling in place, he continues to find use out of my freaking back. I hope my tunic's so scratchy it annoys the spark outta him. This diga-doesn't seem to be working. Which I kinda expected, honestly. Being on my side, the much kinder soul he is, Pippy scrabbles for me on his tiny fours in his tiny version of a hundredsomethinglong beast. His bejeweled, purple orbs blink for me, his chest puffed, and he begins crawling up on me, using my back as a battlefield to butt off his bond's feet.

Groaning, diga-Dino fights back. "Pippy! Come on, you're on my side! Don't root for Jkonna!"

 _Bu-but I am on her side! I-I've ch-chosen for her! I apologize, dear laddie, but now is not the time, and you are not the one! Yeeep!_ He tries another shove and goes sprawling into scaly, black toes. _Ouch! This is rather quite painful! Your nails, I suppose, are linked to claws, as your... um... heritage proclaims. But goodness gracious! Tea and crumpets! Ch-ch-cheerio!_

Diga-Dino squeaks again. "Dude, don't kill yourself! I'm trying to joke! He-he...hey! Don't cry! My gosh, you're just as bad as a girl!" He awkwardly scrabbles for his sobbing seismo and lifts his feet from me. Thank goodness. That was... annoying. Not annoying enough for me to put much of an effort, but certainly a little aggravating on my end. Gah.

"Diga-Dinoooooooooo! While you're up, diga-do you know how to television, cuz I diga-don't. I feel like I'm gonna break this box thingy before it starts running whatever it was we're watching again. What was it? Saurhead finals or something? Some of his most epic battles..? I hope Rupert's in some of the videos, digadig. I think I met him once and he's so fluffy-looking." He halfheartedly steers through my chatter, scaled fingers on mine to help keep my idiocy contained. "Diga-Dino, diga-do you know Rupert?" I continue mindlessly babbling. "I think he's kinda cold at first, but he.. umm... I think he has a girlfriend now. I saw him once, so... she seemed nice, but all stuttering and junk.

He hasn't reacted much. I haven't felt so runny in so long wow. "So then, like... it was back when my sister... Well, it's when I went missing and you were all upset about it. I guess you diga-don't really know what happened or where I went. With Watcher... after he like brought my digadig junk back, and we went to go save my sister from being stupid. It was... fun I guess. But, like, diga, the girl that Rupert was with who knew Pauleen, she seemed like she'd be really cute with you, but I guess that's not happening, oh well."

Yawning in my face. His hand fumbles over my head. "Thaaat's great. Now let's go watch. I wanna see what happens and junk." We stumble back toward the couch behind the simple box and stuff our hands in the bowl of popcorn before Lone eats it because she will. She ate it last time.

My eyes grow bored of watching colors fizzle around on the screen, something diga-Dino says was taken off a "mammoth vision" when it was recorded or whatever. Around the box are other cushions and couches and sofas and things that were patched together when Vivian learned about this place and how much junk was falling apart because diga-Doug looks for the saddest of cushions, the ones no one else wants. And then diga-doesn't fix them because it's not like he knows how to. And it's not like he remembers to ask someone about it.

In the comforting half-moon light of diga-darkness, no sun or stars or anything able to reach us under this cozy roof, I glance back and it looks like, through the beginnings of a static web, the show's gonna start. I plow popcorn into my mouth and pretend Lone isn't loudly fake snoring on my lap at this very moment. Waiting for me to accidentally diga-drop my haul. That turd. Her purple body grows fuzzy beneath my onlooking sight. Somewhere nearby, Bliss plops her fat self beside me too. But she diga-doesn't request food. Maybe because she knows what it diga-does to vivosaurs to eat stuff. Or maybe it's since her diga-digestive track is a little more messed up than the others...

On the screen, though it's all pinched together since it's on a smaller showing, people swoon with voices. I can tell which one's Saurhead because of that plastic mask of minty green glinting in the wind. By his side happily prances that shanshan of his, the supposed-to-be peppy pink as well green because that's just who she is. Can't remember her name. That's okay. I think the show's blaring about them right now, so if I'd focus I'd know, but eh.

It's on a great field rippling of not grass but stones, lots and lots and lots of colorful stones. On a flat expanse of a plateau. There's a diga-drop, just on the edge. Feel like I've seen this place before. Wonder where. Diga-Dino'd be chattering if it was on Vivosaur Island since it's the only thing he'd recognize. Hmm... I think it's called...

"Ugh, so quiet. Lemme..." Yanking that fob thingy out of a cushion, diga-Dino's black fingers jam on a button and the volume on the tiny machine spikes. Voices come zooming straight in from the television box thing. Lone squeals, flying right off of me and landing in the bowl that held popcorn until she ate it all. Yeah, that bowl. The fur on the back of her head riles straight up, it's almost funny. But like... the show... now I'm kind of interested...

"...and Saurhead on the brink... where is this... oh, oh, Rainbow Canyon! Totally nailed it!" Oh my gosh that voice is so cheery I want it to calm itself now please. "The duo is about to set off against the great affirmed Poppito the andrarch and Morn! The two, if I know what I'm talking about, and I feel like I probably do, _Slate_ , were actually quite close back in the day! Shocking, I know. Quiiiite the scandal, ey?"

Wait a second... Diga-Dino beats me to the questioning though. "Wait, like... so my orphanage lady was a fossil fighter? Like a.. really good one? Wow. Weird. I thought she was just making stuff up."

"Hey, diga-Dino, is that that one P.A. Leon dude on the screen? Who always diga-does these things with Slate Johnson? Uhhh... I thought they lived here?"

He snorts, muttering, "They just sorta travel all over the place and pester as many battles as they possibly can. Cuz they're weirdo bums and they have some stupid newspaper and they're plain weird and why the _heck_ did they make an entire series all about me and my adventures? It's so creepy..."

"Well then, diga. You seem to be friends."

"Haaa. I dunno about that. I once pestered them about Bottomsup Bay and swimming and junk with Rosie. It was fun. She got mad at me, but it was so worth it."

"Why are we talking about Rosie now? You both are so immature!" Heads swivel toward the stairwell slowly gaining in a crazy glow of light. Turquoise hair, a chocolate face diga-donning shiny glasses, the lab coat swirling like a cloud. Diga-Doug waves like he usually randomly intrudes on immature people as they complain about Rosie.

Then he casually finds himself on the couch, tossing over his sandals on his way in. He takes up like half of it. Because I diga-don't feel like smelling feet today any more than I have to, I squish up as close to diga-Dino as I'm getting and we settle again, staring intensely at the screen that's about to mimic some sorta battle. Now that I'm watching... oh, yeah, that is totally P.A. Leon. Longer brown hair, punctuating glasses, some fancy, starched coat he'll wear when he's not being creepy and spying on battles... and, of course, Slate in his spiky-haired weirdness right behind him. Shorter. Making him look like the little kid right behind the taller one. Like they're innocent.

Innocent creepy weirdos that write stories and record footage of battles. Oh yes, very innocent.

"Hey, uhhhh..." Well, I guess it's how I'm supposed to like address him now. "D-D-Diga...D-Dad?"

His turquoise eyes find their way toward me beneath his restless glasses. He diga-doesn't reach to settle them this time. "Mm-hmm?" Small smile. He's that kinda guy. It's a nice thing, that little grin. I like it.

"What are you diga-doing here again?"

"Watching the video. What about you?"

...oh. I see how it is. So you just diga-don't feel like diga-doing your science stuff and now you're pestering us. Smooth moves; smooth moves... Awkwardly grinning, I poke at my best friend and snag at the popcorn bowl again, making sure he hasn't eaten all of it quite yet. He can have the kernels though, since we both know how much I hate them. Hard little seeds of crunchy inability, I'd rather not.

Bliss stirs for a moment, before snuggling up close to my diga-dad's feet and loudly snoring there. He seems to particularly enjoy the warmth she provides. I just shake my head and refuse to look in that diga-direction as much as I can.

Diga-Dino's head shifts from near where my head's shoved against him. His shoulder. Black and studded in sparkly stars of light. It itches. A lot. "Heeeeey, Daddy Diiiggiiiinnnns? Like... what's a Rainbow Caaanyoonn?" Raising and jumping around in tone, he sounds like a hyperactive child and I diga-don't like it all that much. Because that's how he is, he simply snorts at my reaction and pats at my head with a hand gushing of butter. He's ruining it. My gosh.

"Hrm?" I diga-don't look at him still. No thanks. His lab coat, with a _pipfh,_ lands against my leg and I try to flick it off but that evil white flap diga-doesn't budge. "Well..." There's a shuffling. I guess he's not very comfortable anymore. Bliss loudly diga-digresses. "Well... It's a dig site in a faraway place. Not that far, though..." he mumbles off into the faint diga-distance. He's got a textured and bright tone, one that's always strangely kind. The kinda thing diga-Dino and I look up to; a sorta voice just about completely opposite of diga-Dynal's.

Not satisfied, my best friend shouts back, "Yeah, but, like, _where?_ "

A shrug. More shuffling. "Somewhere preeeetty far away... I think it's... almost halfway across the world or some like? Oh, wait, that's far as possible, isn't it... Well then, it's as far as you can get from here. Watcher, he's told me about it... I've been there a few times on special trips... uhhhh... I think it's called—"

Like the most impeccable beacon of hope, just in front of us, the television hums as taller long-haired P.A. Leon calls out: "Here we are, the great... in-creeeeedibly hot Caliosteo Islands. I have no idea why the heck we're supposed to be watching this battle here though. My _goodness,_ Slate, why did you have to choose such a place?"

Slate's voice in comparison to P.A.'s rich, fancy slur is rigid, like diga-Dino's, but diga-deeper. Diga-Dino diga-doesn't have that diga-deep of a voice. Ha.

"Because I like it here, and remember? My grandma lives around the corner and she makes the best chocolate chip cookies."

"But it's sooooo hooott!"

"But, like, Saurhead wanted to battle right here."

They go back and forth like this for another two minutes or something outrageous like that. Smugly, again shifts diga-Diggins as he raises his head and proudly proclaims, "Well then, good Dino! I believe we're catching drift off on the Caliosteo Islands! Who would've thought... Ha, Nick Nack and I share a friend living over there... wonder how he's doing right about now... think he visited earlier, but..." He goes off muttering to himself and begins to shift yet again—oh yeah; always has diga-Doug been a wanderer.

Eventually the narrator guys pluck at their bow ties in their strangely fine and not camouflage clothing; guess they diga-don't have to hide around this time. They begin to take great steps back as they gesture the camera diga-device thingy with them. The screen alights in tense brightness. Colors, jewels, really, of earth, reds and blues, yellows, green, I think white too. Maybe a couple others—oh those are the elemental types whaddaya know. The great expanse of plateau twinkles about the place as the two narrators frantically whisper toward each other:

"I can hardly believe we're the only ones here right now!"

"Oh, man, check out this super great feeling of power!"

"I mean, it's an exclusive recording and it's supposed to go to someone in particular but still! How cool!"

"Saurhead, I sweaaaar I'm your biggest faaaaaann!"

"Then I guess I get lovely Morn on my—"

"That's not faaaiir!"

This casually diga-drones on the entire time. As vivosaurs set and miraculously Saurhead uses more than his regular shanshan, also adopting for a very flashing, white penta, all hunched and horned, and beside it a blue and almost flashier styraco and oh my gosh my eyes hate me. Everything, so bright and open and unforgiving it its reflection of scales and sky and startling... beauty? I nudge at diga-Dino and he blankly stares at the screen more so. Very... into this. Um. Weirdo. Pippy shuffled into my side again, his long neck coiling as his head rests against my warm body.

His purple orbs shine almost like he's about to cry—again. Squeaking, he mumbles, _I don't really like fighting now that Dino says we don't have to... it's not very much... dosn't feel, um, okay... anymore..._ Smirking follows the sly grin of the one who saunters up beside him, carefully watching the face of her bond and being sure to come close, but not too close, to the dear seismo.

 _Awww, Pippy... Oh my gosh... It's okay. Don't worry so much! Remember what Dino was talking about. He's... kinda lost right now, y'know? He still... like... needs some chill time. Thinking time, almost. Some, well, almost quiet of the mind while he tries to think a lot about... I think he's going on some crazy Dino journey in his head now that he's a lot more free. Oh, hey, Jkonna, haha, maybe you should do that too!_ Her lip curls because she knows I'm never committing to something so diga-dumb.

 _A-As long as I don't have to... I-I-I mean, it was okay and everything at first and all that but... I don't wanaaaa..._ He's sobbing. Somehow I expected this to happen in the end.

Diga-Droplet's fins go flying for his face, soft, silty brown covered by splashes of sea. _Heeeyyy! Don't cry don't cry don't cryyyyyy! Piiippppyyyyy!_

They're struggling beneath and betwixt each other now. That's just great. By process of elimination, I diga-decide not to assist in any way whatsoever. Zoning back into the screen becomes a trial I in the end diga-ditch. At some point, Bliss had left the futile position of diga-dark feet and crawled around into a cushion, where, while she's busy plucking at the fabric, tiny red Bomba can sneak over and tackle them both into the short, purple carpeting below. Oddly, it's a very mellow purple, almost washed out by waves of a thick ocean-like blue, one that both of them nearly diga-disappear into.

They all have their own little bit of soul. All their own... little change in the world... And right on time, my hands lift to smack Lone across the beak before she goes diga-diving into our popcorn bowl that I'd rather we kept going until the very end, not until she pops outta nowhere and freely chugs it all. I love you Lone but this is too much. Go pester Foster or something. It's very nice when I can toss that role on her and she'll listen to me.

To show his appreciation, the orange-finned butthead rudely slinks between diga-Dino, me, and the popcorn bowl, so that his diga-dry self slithers in and makes everything marginally a little more uncomfortable. He's just thoughtful like that.

From the edges of that accursed screen, the chipper cry of Slate Johnson announces that he thinks Morn's andrarch and elasmo or something are gaining up on Saurhead's signature shanshan. Yeah, that green one. I think andrarch is this really furry red creature, basically the mammal of Bomba, and... elasmo is... something like the cousin of futabi? So Foster's got some purple-finned friend. Great. _I wouldn't call Alistair a friend, but yeah, same thing._

Because he can, he adds that he likes futabis more anyways.

 _So you have a problem with me, digadig?_

 _My gosh, Jkonna, for once I wasn't talking about you and you immediately seek for attention. What are you?_ His diga-dull, diga-dull orbs glance up at me almost accusingly. It's hard not to slap him. It's very hard not to slap him.

 _I'm very annoyed; that's what._

 _If only we got along like P.A. and Slate. Alas, it was never meant to be such closeness..._ In the end, I diga-decide not to tell him that I hate him again because that diga-doesn't seem to work, whatever "work" means. Make him less... well, it's not like me having an intense unfavorable feeling toward him will make him want to impress me or something. Diga-drowsy old Foster is just himself like that. I think oddly he gets along just fine with diga-Dad's vivosaurs.

Behind the andrarch and elasmo is this strange, feline creature, bright blue, bubbly, tail resembling diga-Droplet... it's a paki, I think. Maybe that's why diga-Dino likes his krona so much. They're sorta similar?

Intense shuffling on the side. I refuse to look, until a soft, pale hand brushes by me and a lady figure diga-drenched in turquoise forces her boyfriend to make room. Then suddenly it's okay to glance over at pale, porcelain Vivian whose eyes seek toward the diga-dark-skinned weirdo beside her. She's still wearing her pinkified lab coat. I think she really likes it, since diga-Doug once owned it and all that good stuff.

Eventually her eyes wander for me, great seas of blue-green almost sucking me straight into her. "Um," I try at, "and what're you diga-doing here..? Viv...Vivian?"

A hand gives a sidelong gesture. "Oh, nothing much. Just worrying about him, and the two of you, as usual, but it appears you're watching a rather fine and rather rare video so now I'm intrigued."

"Of course you are."

"As well, it appears my dear friends wished to join, so if you'd excuse them..." Much sooner than I thought possible, the room swoons in the presence of diga-dudes. A rare sight when all the interns diga-do happen to be the weird, diga-ditz females they are. Gosh, by now you'd think diga-Dino practically is a girl. The very slight part of him that still considers he's a rightful male waves and smirks as the lanky, long-nosed fellow in the strands of blonde hair and the pudgy, short, furry one behind waddle past. They thankfully diga-don't sink the couch with more people and pile onto a couple nearby armchairs, these heavily patching, sewn in with really flowery ruses that kinda rock, looking practically risen from the ground itself until Vivian saved us all. Like she's proud of this feat, she and her entire lab coat shift in place, accidentally careening her toward the guy on her left.

I wonder if she diga-did that on purpose, now that I think about it.

"Oh, geez, I do remember that my other brother went pretty far in that narrating scheme of his—but this? Maybe not a movie but why is this battle so long and why are he and that guy he likes so much hopping around and catching videos of it?" Diga-doesn't Snivels have like two brothers? Or three? I can't remember. I think it's only two.

Awkwardly, I lean even more into my best friend and whisper, "Snivels's brothers?"

His response is fast and choking back laughter because he knows I'm embarrassed. "Yeah. Like... Captain Travers, boat dude, and P.A. Leon, I think. Did you know that Snivels has the best voice outta the three of them? It's soooo tropical and zesty you almost can't tell he's got that bit of a nasal tone." Diga-Dino's eyes glaze over at the thought of it. He has the weirdest thing for voices.

Rex, pudgy by his taller and well human friend, loudly barks for reasons I can't tell. He's, like, nomadistinian, so he's brown-furred all over and diga-doesn't seem to speak fluent enough vivaldi. I think he had this thing against it or something. In response to his friend's yapping, Snivels grumbles back, "Yeah, I know. And no, I don't care. Vivian has a boyfriend and that doesn't mean you should act so jealous, you weirdo."

Maybe Rex understands it but diga-doesn't like speaking it. He... like... when it's his best friends talking he gets it I think but otherwise... I diga-dunno. He's complicated. Layered, maybe. Like an onion. A big, fat, fuzzy onion. With a frig-mas hat on. A bright red one.

Diga-Dino's groans grow steadily louder the more the people amongst us talk until he pulls out the fob like it's his savior and angrily shoves his thumb into that one button, forcing the volume to spike ever the higher until I'm sure Wendy can hear it from diga-downstairs unless she's trying really hard to pretend he and I diga-don't exist again. Maybe then the noise would like evaporate before it came to her or... something... That sounds possible. I mean, she's Wendy.

Even though the volume now jumps, practically crackles, from ear to ear now, I diga-don't really focus, almost like I just can't. Which I'm okay with; battles aren't precisely my favorite thing in the world, just saying. Not like that's diga-Dino or anything. We're like opposites right now, seeing how much he's just looking into the soul of that screen and sucking in its essence or... whatever he's diga-doing. Why-ever it means this much to him. Morn's in it... must be nice to look at her younger self, try to understand the lady who raised him a little more. Maybe... why she stopped, too, if she was so strong back in the farther back days... Saurhead still pursued fossil fighting. Look where the heck he is today: taking on young weirdos like diga-Dino. But... that Morn lady never... she never...

Rainbow Canyon. That name. It seems to yell at me, not even on the screen but zooming through the face of some diga-delighted, purple-finned monster who looks just about as happy as Foster's regular basis sighing. But I... I swear I think I feel like I've been to such a place before now. Like... it was important and I roamed around and I met someone, some girl who fluffy Rupert liked and who Pauleen and everyone... Pauleen, oh gosh, back when she still wore that magic mask to make her boisterous because she was so awful around others and it backfired and she broke that girl's hand until the mask was diga-destroyed... the hand... broken hand... How awful Pauleen felt and she'd like not diga-disqualified but backed outta that round of that Caliosteo Tournament thingy because she broke her hand... felt awful... of course...

 _N-no, Pauleen, it is okay... D-Do not worry about me, p-p-please..! I-I am ambidextrous, s-so it is no-no worry for me... r-r-really..!_

Oh. Oh yeah.

Diga-Din—

Oh yeaaaah.

She seems nice.

So anyways, the show continues on its winding road of battle, bad puns, and the two nonstop narrators who speak in all corners of conversation from the weather to horoscopes to how terrifyingly fast that tiny green shanshan is. They zap from topic to topic in such a way that it feels like an art: something to hone and perfect. Their gift. Never thought of it that way. They're mildly and mindlessly amusing, I'll give that. Rex barks approvingly once or twice when P.A. Leon mentions some nomadistinian culture but acts diga-deaf when his partner diga-does the same.

Maybe he gets Snivels and his family but... Slate Johnson diga-doesn't count I guess. Well, he has spiky hair, and I mean, many have tried but nobody has managed to feel empathy for diga-Dino so maybe—I am joking. Pippy. Look at me with those sweet, purple orbs of yours: I am joking. Diga-don't cry. Please diga-don't—oh it was futile from the start. I try to pat his shaking head; he lets me but pules cutely and guiltily—for me—the entire time. That look diga-Droplet's giving me diga-doesn't spare me much afterwords.

Like a tidal wave, it all rebounds, my gaze shooting toward my best friend who of course if half asleep but still watching with his eyes as focused as he can get their fluttering lids to be. Focused on this... movie. Show. Battle. Whatever. It must mean a lot to him. Glancing at the screen, absently, it looks like Saurhead's insane shanshan who I thought was already taken out ages ago is about to diga-demolish the ruins of Morn's team so not really much left, but the way his eyes cling onto the electronic field and how diga-deeply he looks upon it makes it feel like not a halfhearted ending but a grand finale, one that he's been waiting for his entire life.

It worries me. I'm sorry. Kill me. But it worries me. The way those slits of gray stare, practically glare through this action, I diga-dunno how much I like that. Squeamish bits of vital organs inside of me diga-don't really like it either. I... I wanna know what he's thinking about right now... I'm worried. Pippy, collapsed and diga-drained by his own emotions, won't be focusing on much; diga-Droplet's hovering around him like a freaking mom; Lone's asleep in that other popcorn bowl; Harei... Harei's... huh, where is Harei? Oh, wait. There's a golden blob hiding behind the... is she cold and the electronic, like, heat is warming her or what? Okay then.

Well I guess if they're all busy I'll just have to wait until later to diga-do much about it oh bummer oh bummer I'm just gonna try to focus on the—

 _You hath ignoreth of my place?_

Diga-freaking-dangerous-da—

 _L-L-leave me alone, Iggy... I-I diga-don't... um... I-I... I was joking! R-right? Yeah. Totally. I was joking. I'm... n-n-not worried about... d-diga-Din... Dino... n-n-not at all..._ I've hunched myself up against the boy and ugh if anyone looks at me I bet they'll get the wrong idea stupid everyone assuming whatever _screw them I'm scared!_

Like really... really scared... I'm almost frozen in place by the time I've curled up against him. My hair scatters all over his figure, his state unable to notice me and I diga-don't even care it just feels safer right here. My diga-dark head hidden, by cushion and by he. It feels safer here... Funny, ironic, as the one I want to hide from is ever the closer after my reaction. His words tick and tock like a clock that won't stop ticking; rigid, fidgets, clip-clop-clicking in my head until it's all I can hear, all I can say, and my tongue has diga-died inside of me.

Scary. I'm sorry. Scary.

Silence meets my words. Silence preys on these diga-dusty, musty feelings diga-deep inside of me, and I let it. It feels better this way. Until slowly, diga-deep breaths, finding his own sudden courage, the great, warm spirit of a monster again diga-dwells within me: _Jkonna, you are swift to action and anger. To reaction. And thus I am left here in this dust. Harrumph, I say to this squikwash. All Dino hast to think of right at this endless string of moments is about his 'mother' and about all the Benn...Benne... er, Saurhead fellow of yours. He wonders. His mind is a-prowling... insolent female pest._

It's hard not to listen. He's just like that. Iggy. I diga-don't really like that. Diga-don't at all.

 _You are so afraid? Well, it is not as if I can blame your blinding soul, can I now? Hah. I suppose not. But then you cannot blameth of me my heritage, you must liveth of who I am, and who thine Dino liketh of me. You cannot taketh away of he who hast no disagreement upon the subject matter. Therefore I am here... and therefore I hear Thomas... and I wait... and I wait..._

Thomas?

O-Okay then... bring that weirdo up all you want I guess... Ugh. My head aches. Stop being freaky, Iggy. Eventually his permeating presence diga-dissipates, a smoke faintly smelling of fire and... sugars. But it... it... he's over for now. I can't stand him. I really can't. Yuck. I guess now I know what's going on in diga-Dino's head though. N-not that I'm gonna thank that guy for it... I diga-don't really care if it's rude; I mean that's just how I am anyways...

I feel like Iggy's the kinda soul to tell the truth, but... diga-did he interpret right what he saw? What if he... what if he... It's hard, when you never know...

Just as that video begins to cut off, sputter, and end, I think about raising myself to put in the next one so I get to choose when another body springs up and through the stairwell, pink locks of short hair flying as her diga-darker, shadier body makes way over here. A strangely cold presence passes by alongside her. Diga-Dino, pouting now, grumbles, "Hello, Tiff," in a creaky old surly bum voice.

As her long, slender, chilling fingers wend through the pile in the front, she mumbles a spunky tune under her voice. Diga-Doug moans to it. "Tiffany, I've asked you to pleaaaaaase stop humming your anime theme songs... it's unbearable after five hours straight..."

She shoves her face back towards her technical mentor and murmurs happily, "Yeah, but I'm animoo trash, so I have to."

"What does that even mean?" he squeaks back.

From their twin couches, those other two guys shrug. Rex's ears diga-droop as he mutters something to Snivels, who responds with, "Ugggggh. _That_ anime? Like the video shows you told me about that your cousin you hate used to watch?"

Suddenly everyone in the chamber grows apprehensive as our eyes fall on the steadily-humming Tiffany.

And Rex isn't alone. His big, warm, brown body perks as he hears some other wonderful people tramping up the stairs, soon revealing to be diga-dull and brown-haired Beth as well as shy redhead Sue. That's great. They hear the singing of Tiff and grow still, worrisome as they hobble around for a chair, until finally the blonde we've all been waiting for bursts up and into the attic area. Her face immediately puckers.

"Tiffany, I've asked you how many times not to play or sing those putrid songs around us? Do you remember that little boy—Clem, him—who you were singing to? The one who tried to throw that pen he carries around everywhere at you afterword?"

"Nah, not really." The humming pauses as she shifts. "Okay, fiiiiiine, you big dumb rapscallions. I'll have to live with playing that one popular romantic movie since I'm a nerd for romantic popular movies too. If everyone's gonna complain, I'll just have to pop in freaking Romo Hectic Three, okay? Great? Great." And in she pops a diga-disc.

As some peppy theme song plays, we all settle diga-down again: me resting against diga-Dino, he resting against Foster a little more than me; diga-Diggins and Vivian on the other side; Snivels and Rex nearby; the interns chatting almost loud enough to spoil us all for the entire movie. It's a strange sorta peaceful, just being there with all the others. It's calming for sure. Nice to just... have this. Yes... it is. I... I really like it here. I diga-do. I diga-do...

It can look like it's hard sometimes, what with... Knotwood Forest and my unforgettable grandpa, but that's really beside the point. It's a very nice feeling. I like not having to live out in the forest and know there are others who'll scold me for trying to in the first place. Heck, there are others who'll scold me for diga-doing something five years ago if they find out about it—hence Vivian; hence diga-Doug, y'know. Of course I... I can tell diga-Dino must be feeling it too. That he really... he's certainly diga-doing better.

Still I worry for him, still he's in this position where it's weird, still it's not exactly alright, but... but it can be, right? He can be really... really safe like that, right?

I think he can.

It's very nice here, y'know... very nice here...

 **Me: xD Can anyone see a pattern here? Hahaha... probably...**

 **Oh, um! Index: squikwash is the word hogwash (which means like foolery, annoyance, etcetera) but like there aren't hogs or animals other than "vivosaurs" in this world, so I get creative with stuff like that. XD The word radoxish comes from sluggish (slow) because again no slugs, but a radox is pretty close to a slug... sort of, hahaha. While squiks look like chicks, nothing like hogs, I thought squikwash sounded better and made a little more sense than metriwash so... -shrugs-**

 **That's why sometimes there's weird words in the series xD Now you know. Probably should've said that sooner... oh well. Heheh. Maybe I'll just upload that fossil fighters document sometime so it's easier? Maybe.**

 **So... where's the story looking right now... I think, um, at leaaast ten chapters (probably xD) and it'll be done... after that. At least ten chapters. I was thinking this might end at thirty-five, but we'll see~**


	24. Ja: Lots and Lots of Hostage

**Jkonna: I feel so proud of myself. I keep getting all these chapters in this story now and it's like so great.**

 **Me: ...well it is your story..? And um, happy Valentines Day! X3 That's what it is while I'm currently writing, at least... heehee.**

 **Jkonna: ew**

 **Dino: please don't**

 **Me: guyyyss ;w;**

 **Jkonna: no**

 **Dino: nO  
**

 **Dina: ...I-I-I... th-think it is a... n-n-nice... ho-holid...day... -squirming nervously in background-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 24: Lots and Lots of Hostage

 _Jkonna_

Furiously my hands diga-dig into diga-Dino's fingers and plow him further through the nexus of the Fossil Center's basement. Winding rows upon rows of purple-carpeted hallways beckon us into its vast confines. Very very easy to lose oneself in here, may I add, when you're not just going straight diga-down into the real basement where that mess of an experiment or two lies as well as the one way we know how to get onto the starship.

We wouldn't have to if diga-Dynal and Raptin weren't so attached to it.

But I guess we all have our reasons.

"Y'know," he mumbles beside me as I continue to tug, "it's not like it's a bad thing he's kicking us out to do cleaning and junk... I mean, he and everyone have to... like... get their... doc work done or whatever." I-It's not like I'm angry about him always sort of being busy and... like... diga-doing his job or anything... N-no big diga-deal...

"Awwww. Jkooonnnaaaaaa..." Shut up shut up shut up diga-Dino. I try to ignore all the voices that follow after that. Ugh, why diga-do I have to be surrounded by diga-ditzes that care about me? Nervous. It... makes me kinda nervous. Ugh, I'm not used to you weirdos, even by now.

Because she's a freaking mom like that, whether I'm vivosaur like she or vivaldi like diga-Doug or digadig like me: she's my mom, and thus Morie echoes in the back of my mind, _Perhaps. But that makes us all the very less likely to leave! You should know these things by now!_ She's strangely zesty when she really wants to be. Behind her, her permanent bright red shadow, Bomba echoes Morie. The m-raptor triumphantly raises her thick beak and ruffles her tropical feathers. This, Bomba diga-doesn't copy, like she's been left speechless somehow.

Amusingly, diga-Dino wrinkles his nose. He starts pulling as I lose speed. "Now shut up and get used to it. Veeerry nicely put, lady."

Morie shrieks, _That's not the right wording, Dino! You're trying to shove me in with slander and I really don't like it! We're on the same side, aren't we?_

 _D-Diga-dummy! You're s-supposed to be on my diga-dang side!_

Pippy giggles, just the softest leaf of a blow in the browning autumn, in a faraway glance.

Throughout my bustling and diga-Dino's banter I'm not quite in tune with and then my vivosaurs, bubbly and sweet as they are, bringing the wrong sets of attempts to make me feel better, it's not like any of us know where we're going. At some point, I swear I'd had a diga-duster in my hand. I swear I still feel its crunchy, plastic handle now. But that might be someone's medal... but it shouldn't be... Scrunching my eyes, it all looks the same. Well then I trust nobody trips on what I diga-did diga-drop.

 _Please don't make comments about losing one of us,_ awkwardly yawns Foster. _It makes me nervous. Especially because I feel like I'd be lost the most easily._ And oh, of course he feels like that. Oddly his tone diga-doesn't suggest much of a boring slam as usual. He hasn't been particularly diga-delving into any of my flames lately. He's acting so simple... I wonder why...

I haven't been paying any attention to much other than the voices in my head at this point, so when I finally register the rapid pulling sensation in my arm, it's my instinct to jab away from it, carrying us both and lopping us off into the gigantic cave in the wall diga-Dino was trying to save me from. We're hurtling; it's complete diga-darkness; I think I can feel the rush of air he's pulsating with him just by me. Ow. Rocks. "Where are we!" I squeal.

Diga-Dino's response comes slowly, jagged, like he's diga-dizzy. Probably spinning around with me too. "I dunnooooooooo!" It's like when he finishes rounding out his words he's reluctant to let them go, how fast and furious they cling. Diga-distorted, I think. A hand awkwardly makes its diga-descent upon the wall, brushing up against the rough—ow! Ow, oh my gosh, it's biting me like it's alive. Like I just pasted my fingers into the maw of a krona of some sort, or Bliss. She takes the pleasantries to not yell at me in return.

Winds whip and choke at me, hands of blinding thunder rattling, rusting through my hair, through my eyes, through my throat, my voice, my toes, it's all the same. Diga-Dino's tail comes flying every few seconds and eventually it smacks into my nose. I yell. "Hey! Look out!"

"I was just about to say the same to you!" I diga-detect that giggle and I diga-don't know how much I like it.

 _Oooooooooohhhhh! How far down do you think we are?_

 _Mmm... probably not that far. I think it's only been ten seconds._

 _BLAAMMMNNNnnnn..._

My face becomes acquainted to the coldest earth it has ever met in its entire life. Cold, diga-dreary, thick, soupy, wet, soulless diga-dirt. Rancid. I smell it on my lips. Coughing, spluttering, some of it comes up but I feel like I'll never lose this awful edge of mildew and algae... something like seawater in my breath. In my mouth. It's personal now. I yank myself onto my knees at the very least, trudging faithfully through the blackness as my arms whip around the place and come up short of anything. Nearby, though, I faintly diga-detect the warmth of another body. Pulsating right by me. My hand reaches out for—

a strange, clawed, furry hand. "YEEP!" It's diga-dropped. Immediately. I'd wipe myself on my tunic or something but I can't find anything, and... um... it's probably smeared in this crusty junk as is. So it's... not really... gonna help all that much. Strips of hair that I wish were flaming tote themselves over my shoulders and fitfully coat my filth in their own extra layer of grime. This is miserable business. I lurch myself back from the creature with the claws and land myself straight on the scaly-feeling thing that has to be... something of diga-Dino's.

"Oh hey, I think a girl's on my stomach," he so casually announces. "Jkonna, your bum's cold. But then again, I'm probably just as cold too. Also your hair is this really thick mess I can very slightly catch a glimpse of..." Pause. "Aaannnd your weight is starting to cave on me please get up." Rigid, face infuriated with color, I trip off of him, most presumably by another piece of his body. "Ow. Chin. Don't mess with my chin. I have Dad's chin. And it's a good chin."

 _Whump._ "My entire body has probably been reaaaaaally bent outta shape. I bet I just look like Bliss or something now. Oh, diga..." She retorts hotly on that, but it only warms my frightened and cold soul so in the end I thank her and she tries harder and again she's only making my life better. If I was paper, she the crayons fiercely scarring my perfect white forever with bright, lustrous color. Of course, why the heck would I want to be white in the first place?

We attempt to reorient ourselves: me struggling to my actual feet first, brushing at crumbs of knees, himself being pulled by the first until he can freaking walk again. Diga-Dino faintly murmurs in my ear, leaning, "I think I see something really weird looking in the far corner. It looks like a string... only it's suspended in the air, and it's just... plain _weird_. What do airstrings do?"

"I diga-don't know," I squeak in return, "wanna find out?" I diga-don't see anything; might as well blindly egg him on.

"You know I do." I so casually follow his hulking figure, blacker than the rest of the black in view, toward the air-string-thing he pointed out, our feet making diga-dejected _spak spak_ noises into the chilling diga-dirt. It's times like these that I recall neither of us ever wear shoes and because of this, now we suffer. He diga-doesn't mention it though. Ugh, I swear, if Iggy's diga-doing that weird temperature thing again—wait, no, he only makes things warmer, can't help with the cold, that's freaking Thomas... I diga-don't wanna think about it...

We wind up in front of what diga-Dino had meant and he probably raises a hand and pulls at it but I can't really tell if he diga-does right now. Maybe I should pull out Bomba later. She breathes fire. She's in very severe diga-denial about it, but she still diga-does breathe fire. It smells like diga-Droplet's guts in here. We're probably underwater, but like, not in the water, in some cave or another.

In a flourish, out of nowhere, the very brown area bathes in a great, glowing light after the calling _chic-chic_ sounds and diga-Dino removes his fingers from his find. Very... very bright now. Sorry, Bomba. She probably is relieved though, more than anything. Diga-doesn't care much for using those flames of hers that she's supposed to use. I mean, how else is someone gonna see when it's diga-dark out without some sorta fire? Well, apparently airstrings are a thing now. But besides that. Like... we have those electrominites, and those fire up screens and whatever junk it is that we resurrected after learning about diga-dinaurian knowledge those millions of years ago, blah blah history, but like... this light... it's so weird and unnatural and oh my gosh there is something very brown and very furry on the ground. Thick claws. Oh, it's the guy whose hand I held.

Squeaking, my hands soon find a much better hold called my best friend's left arm. Thick, diga-dark scales come in contact with my quaking self as the boy laughs at my reaction and I want to hit him but I diga-don't. "I guess we're gonna make a new friend?" he murmurs.

"Ugh, I should've pilfered Tramp. I had a bad feeling, since that stupid Fossil Center's so huge, but my gosh... I mean, he's huge, but he can fly us outta here probably. One-by-one if we have to... What if diga-Doug gets all nervous and realizes we're gone and stuff?"

He guffaws, responds; "No worries. He's the kinda guy to notice and then forget. Plus, maybe the big furry dude can, like, help us or something. Did you think it was me, take his hand, and 'yeep' at him?"

"N-no, diga."

"I know. Why would you do such a stupid thing?"

No response to that.

"Well, it's all light now... so why don't we go wake up our... um... guest? Friend? I... I dunno. Guy man dude thing with fur." As we begin to move on, suddenly I'm struck with an idea.

"I think it's Raptin, digadig." It feels very good to be awarded with that laughter.

Finally, we tramp onward through this glowing unfolded atmosphere, to where the creature lies, the creature that is not Raptin, though that'd be pretty hilarious, but actually slumps over there looking curled up like he's napping—guessing it's a guy here—his thumb claw in his snout-like mouth. It reminds me of how angular the diga-dinaurians have of faces, and really just their bodies in general, but he's evermore the overhang, and that nose, bright berry pink around all the fur... It diga-doesn't look lanky and gross or anything, almost cuddly in a weird way. It's a stout, Pippy-like snout, only on a biped buckled in gear I diga-dunno if vivosaurs like wearing. A thick set of goggles encircling the head. A vest. A very patched vest. Rings on some clawed fingers. I think that next to his head's a sort of hat with a... diga-drill attached to it.

"Um." I kinda stop there as diga-Dino, by my side, voices, "Yes, um," to confirm my feelings about this predicament. He goes on; "Wanna poke her until she wakes up, or are you like too scared to ever dream of touching her again?"

Blinking. "Diga-Dino, I'm pretty sure it's not a girl."

Out of nowhere the little diga-disturbance at our feet wildly rattles on the cold, hard ground and springs to its bum, sitting, waddling, seizing its thick orange cap and plastering it to its head and staring through tiny, beady, black eyes until the goggles come diga-down. And it stares at us and it sighs. In a soft, fluttering whisper, it murmurs in return, "No, I'm pretty sure it's not a girl either."

"Are you—"

"YEEP!" I fall back and tug at diga-Dino harder. I wish I could say that I wasn't freaking out at this point. Unfortunately I am the most pathetic Jkonna out there and I'm shaking and my hair's on fire and I'm all grimy and gross and this diga-doesn't feel right and scary oh my gosh scary.

"Sorry. Excuse the female. She's weird." He goes on naturally. "Uhhh, so, like, I'm Dino, she's Jkonna... And are you sure, like completely sure, you're not a girl? Because I think you look like you might be a girl. I could most certainly see you as a girl. Not Jkonna, but still..." He diga-drones off and diga-doesn't help at all with my aching heart.

They continue like I'm not in the middle of them, being diga-dumb and terrified and stuff. "No, I'm pretty, pretty sure I'm not a girl. You know, pretty sure I'm a boy. Last I checked, at least. Y'know, I heard genders can change overnight, so..." I never thought such casual sarcasm existed before. "Um... I guess that means it's my turn. The name's Lemo, and I'd appreciate it, like a lot, if you didn't forget the name. I just woke up here in this strange part of the Complex... hmmm, weird. I guess I'd better go find O'Mel soon."

Diga-Dino nods, all the continuously casual. "Oh, yes, I'm sure you do have to go look for O'Mel. And like... Complex? Wait. Wait a second. Excuse me breaking the mood, but now I'm confused and I need some seriousness." They all ignore me as I shake rather weirdly and my cheeks puff all the more red.

They're just nice like that. Lemo goes on after eying our suspicious group for a few seconds longer than needed. Eventually he whispers on; "Well, the Complex, yes? It's underground. It's where we all live, us moels. We're not a well known race to most, other than the digadigs, since we're underground mostly and all that, but I'd say we're kind of important. Our Complex soars in these remote parts, and lemme just say there are fossils coating our dig zones. I usually keep a good six or seven of them with me but... ugh, I bet O'Mel stole them again. Tiring little brother, he really is." Oh, so there's more of them. Oh my gosh there's more of them. My heart is in splinters.

Diga-d-does there have to be more of them? I'm as riled up as it is and now we're gonna go find the butthead's little brother? I guess it's kinda rude to call him a butthead since I hardly know him but... but but... I'm scared. Sorry.

"Why's she so shivery and junk? Is she usually like that?" His clawed thing goes in the general diga-direction of my um face. "It's gonna be kinda hard to manage while I'm escorting the both of you through the Complex. And well... she's acting a little mite like that. Any way to calm her? She seems emotional. Oh boy. Eeeeemotional."

Diga-Dino just shrugs for me. "Can't say she's not, I guess. Uh... one of my vivosaurs can probably try to help. Hers are screaming at her so loudly I'm sure you hear them, but I think she can't tell. So... well, hey, yeah, Harei, do your thing. You know, your Harei thing," and after his call I think I can see that golden creature land herself on top of my head. I diga-don't really feel it though. "Welp. That's about as good as we can do for her. Let's roll out? Where are we again? Explain the whole Complex thingy?"

"Yeah, sure. We should get moving, though. I feel like O'Mel's gonna wander soon and... that's not a very good thing. He's just like that." Sighing, the furry guy diga-dodges around us and moves on, stopping for a moment as diga-Dino turns himself along with me. "Are you following or what? I said you're coming, so you're coming."

Mumbling to himself as he casually catches my limp body and half tosses me over his shoulder, diga-Dino glances forward as I diga-do more the opposite. "Well, this'll be fun." I quietly grumble back something that probably diga-doesn't make much sense; to which he offers up a chuckle and moves onward. I feel like one of those princess weirdos now, like, the ones from the stories, not real ones. Real ones are mostly pretty cool. But here I am, nigh diga-dragging by my best friend, sort of stuck here, sort of scared.

"Uh, like, do you know what the heck your whole fear scene was all about? Any ideas or whatever toward that?" he peeps up for a bit but I diga-don't offer much conversation like the good digadig I'm supposed to be. So thus he tries to whistle. And abruptly stops, cuz he can't. That'd be weird, though, if he diga-did have some singing gene in him or another. One that, like, also was hidden away in all of his vivosaurs and they made a choir or something. Oh man, that'd be really messed up. I diga-dunno if I could live with being his best friend if that were to happen. Ulgh.

It's a very natural thing, as he carries me onward; not really something that either of us grows all that nervous or awkward about. There's only so many nervous and awkward situations you can get yourself and your best friend into before you're finally just in this place where it diga-doesn't matter, the embarrassment level, anymore. It just kinda diga-dies on the tip of one's mind, sorta. So maybe now I'm half a princess—carried by the freaking diga-dinaurian prince—but it's not big diga-deal or anything. I wonder how Lemo's—never mind I diga-don't care.

On my head wobbles a highly unbalanced ourano. Her golden scales flicker just out of my sight so that I swear I can see them but sometimes I can't tell if she's still there. My single comfort in her is the odd, resonating warmth she never seems to stop giving off, not for a flicker of a moment, like a fire safely wrapped in a bubble of the warmth of its own skein, one that protects it from the high waters to come. Harei's like that. She's just weird like that. But I guess she can't comfort herself, only others. She's pretty fantastic at that latter.

It's like I'm wearing a pillow on my head. One that constantly can't stop thinking positive worries and squeaks about just how okay it's gonna be—and it's gonna be very okay in the words of the hip-laden biped. Her tail wags once or twice but ends its tantrum as it hits against things like diga-Dino's shoulder and diga-Dino's neck, and he lets her know just how much he hates the feeling of a scaly, golden tail, traced in heat, whipping him.

Nervous, I knead at the bits of scales on diga-Dino's back I can reach. Random handfuls. "S-Sometimes, things are... just scary." There's an elaborate, arcing pattern on this side I hadn't really seen before, tracing lightly, simply, overdoing his body in some sort of orange, that backdrop of silvery scales a silhouette for his life. It's always been his color. Never never diga-dark; but hinted, hinted in his very light and fragile heart in the right sort of scheme of things. "So silver or gray or whatever... diga, that's your color?'

"Ha..." Soft, jingling laughter. He's not so bad. "Yeah. Preeeetty much." He jolts. "You know that sudden moment when you realize you don't know what your very best friend's favorite color is? Wow, I feel like such an idiot. My gosh. So... um... um... if, if you will?" He's all red-faced; I can feel his hue arcing off my back. Aw, diga-Dino, it's all fine.

Shrugging, I mumble, "Diga-dunno. People diga-don't ask me that, heh. Um... I guess yellow. A cloudy yellow. Maybe with some green polka-diga-dots in it, but I just want that yellow."

As he snorts he also accidentally shifts me enough for my head to graze over his thick, heated neck. It's a comforting place to be. A weird place to put your head but it's... got it's own mechanics of safety in there. Sated, he laughs at me and I almost laugh back; "I don't think that's how it works, but I guess yellow works. A clouuudy yellow... so I'm guessing not Harei yellow?" Oh wait that's a question.

"Uh... isn't Harei more gold or whatever?"

"And it's no Bliss yellow either?"

"About all of Bliss's body is a shade of brown. Maybe there's little nooks and crannies of yellow, but it's like, diga-dust yellow. Like, it's Bliss yellow, it's not Jkonna's yellow. My yellow. Yeah yeah, I'm gonna call it that, digadig." And then it's settled; we shall call my cloudy yellow the color of Jkonna. It works perfectly.

Moels must be really slow or something, cuz we're lazily chatting the entire time, me adding to the extra weight on diga-Dino, and still it diga-doesn't take that much time at all to find the... furry one again. I only know he's there because my head frequently swivels back to see what the heck's forwards. Diga-don't want him on a leisure stroll into any holes; which is a complete bias statement after everything we diga-did to end up here. I can hear the shuffling and the crinkling of claws and feet into the soil. Lots and lots of diga-dull claws I'd rather not put my mind into.

From where I am, I'm for once taller than a lot of things, which includes the... the uh Lemo yeah him no. His big, rounded, fluffy body, while nearing my best friend's tallish height, can't quite take the stride, though it's probably better for moels not to be all... tall and stuff. Casually, he mentions, "I reckon we'll have to go on an adventure to save O'Mel. It just seems like the right thing to do." And thus I'm tossed into diga-darkness yet again.

This great hallway of rubble and rough, untidy bits of soil diga-doesn't help with all this diga-dramatic lighting. Random airstrings diga-dot the ceiling every few times, coiling over my head as we go on our way and I'm tall enough to feel it, and Lemo usually pulls them first. At one point a great tuft of his fur nearly slides up my nose and I about slide out of diga-Dino's weird grip as my face paints itself ghastly purple. Harei titters forlornly at my near diga-departure. Diga-doesn't help matters all that much. I still... ugh, that first impression keeps firing warning bells through my head.

"Wait." Is diga-Dino reconsidering? Are we gonna go try climbing outta here back where we came? "Adventure? What's that mean here in the good ol' Complex?" he squeaks as my hopes and diga-dreams slowly go tumbling diga-down a long, faraway hill.

He gestures back and another puff of fur nearly hits me again only Harei begins frantically blowing until she's blue in the face and it's gone. She'd probably continue until she passes out. She's too much. She needs to stop.

"Adventure, here in our Complex, is basically everything that it takes to get through here. The combination of unforgivable mines clotting over everything and all our unused freakin' taverns where all the milk we import goes, stupid taverns, makes it particularly hard to get anywhere easily. We're still in our first hallway, so I doubt much is up yet, other than that girl back yonder on your shoulder and her reactions, and of course our fated meeting but... well, you'll see."

My eyes gouge through the path we leave behind. "When diga-do we get home?" I whimper.

I think that Lemo guy just applauded for hearing my first five words ever spoken in his presence, albeit they completely diga-disregard everything he's diga-done for us and suggest a clean getaway back the way we came. With that smile on his face, diga-Dino only softly murmurs back to me: "When Lemo finds us a way into the surface again."

Why diga-do you have to be so kind and considerate of others? Of um... of... of that guy? I'm sorry but... gah. It's not fun these diga-days. No, shut up, Morie, I diga-don't wanna hear about your— _Whaat? Did I manage to break through, then? Well... oh, dear, this is quite, quite alleviating. Finally! You'd practically snapped and we couldn't get a hold on you. It was rather terrifying, Jkonna! Let us know if you're not feeling okay; don't just outright tumble into some sort of near-unconscious territory! I didn't like that at all, Jkonna!_

As she begins to slowly putter into control again, I tell her about my feelings. _It's a little ominous but kinda hilarious that five seconds after I've recovered enough to hear from you again you're yelling at me. Diga... I was scared. Like, really, really scared, okay? Maybe I'm better now, by a little bit, but sheesh, Morie! What are you!_ Wait, no, diga-didn't need to ask that.

 _Jkonna, I am one of three mothers you never had!_

Yeah, I kinda figured that was coming. It's not like it's her guilt-trip that she always goes back to or anything; it's just fact, and it's just how she, or I suppose we, diga-do. Now that I think about it, she probably felt all that panic come roiling through her in one huge wave like this entire tunnel caved on us, that tunnel-vision of vain, blind, deaf loss to where she can't tell if I'm okay or not. So, well, um, I'm okay, as you can plainly see. Nothing yet has managed to kill me. So that's a thing. So it's all good.

Bomba cheerfully mentions, _It doesn't look very 'all good' when it's, like, a... a big furry guy who's sort of sarcastic but nice... is like, making you freak out. I'm just relieved nobody was magically set on fire again, yes?_ She now believes the sole cause of everything being lit is magic. But of course.

And onward we go, the voices of those diga-dummies now knotted around in colorful tapestries of themselves around and around my head. How fun. Okay okay it's very hard to focus with them all screeching at the top of their lungs. All but Foster, who's incapable of such a thing. He's trying, though. I swear, right now, he's trying though.

Like a blade, Lemo's freakish self cuts straight through all the noise: he's clear, he's concise... I diga-dunno if I like it all that much. "I feel like he's hanging around in Grasswall, because, well, I guess you vivaldi don't know it, but the nose always knows. So well anyways... that's to the riiiiiight, if I'm right. Because being left is most _certainly_ wrong. Quite a bold statement for a lefty. Hrm. Right. Right side. We're going to the right," he mumbles off, and off, and away as diga-Dino's legs casually keep up. His voice diga-dies into his ears, a place where now only he can hear it, and only he's focusing on himself, so my best friend and I share some unconvincing glances. In the end I rapidly whisper that we shouldn't follow the lunatic, but guess what, surprise, we keep following him for some wonderful horrible horrible reason.

His hat slides off his head as he takes his steps. One at a time and he casually levels himself again. Apparently we'll be going off to Grasswall soon. It's funny: I was feeling brave and strong and uppity and all about ready to clean the Fossil Center, and now I've been reduced to this fun lump hanging over the diga-dinaurian prince's shoulder, like that's all I am now. And then of course there's that Lemo guy and all that's going on there.

"Here... hey, are you guys even focusing on anything besides each other?"

Diga-Dino covers for me. "Never will I ever feel romantic affection for this ditz."

"...that's great, kid." He laughs anyways, even though we're not kids; we might be, well, I feel close to this guy's age. Maybe not super close, but we're not, like... children. Softly, like he knows, he mutters, "You vivaldi and your eighteen-is-good-enough whatever. Eighteen and we're going to thousands of years. Whatever." He grumbles more about confusing junk and swerves a hard right that spirals our group into a strange conjunction of rocks, stone, and lots of mud sculpted perhaps by these moel weirdos diga-deep into the heart of this place.

Oh, so this is where all the vegetation went. Literally the entire gap of browning floor has been coated, like carpeting, in fuzzy green grass, clovers, brightly-petaled flowers, and of course the occasional root from the occasional insane tree. Its arms reach out toward the great pinprick of light just flitting off the edges of the rocks, so far up to be just about impossible to climb for, but still ample enough for roiling heaps of sunlight to birth all these plants. Lemo furiously adjusts his goggles, because that totally helps with our task at hand. He clears his furry throat. "So, insert lots of suspense and awe, this is Grasswall. As you can see, the walls of this area are coated in grass. And other green things, not just grass. That flower is not grass." He points at a stalk of broccoli casually growing in the ground and I, turning, flinch. No thanks. "And it's also on ceilings, and the flooring, not just the walls. Yes, I'm sorry, we tried to cover our bases."

A pause. Diga-Dino diga-decides that he must break it. "So, like... people question the name? Uh... I mean, it's kinda self-explanatory..? It's not like people who go to Rivet Ravine get all angry because there's a bunch of mine carts everywhere and those aren't rivets or ravines or whatever." His voice trails off as he stares out into the diga-distance. "And nobody questions the giant river slogging through."

"Nah, not really," he compensates. Of course not.

While Lemo and my best friend sort of shrug me off, him literally shrugging and me literally falling and Harei literally almost getting crushed by my own hip-laden body, I sort of stutter back. Lemo's still kinda not cool to me, so whatever. It is what it is. Faintly I can hear their pops of conversation, crackles in the wind, them being as sarcastic as they possibly can to each other on the big question of "why are you here in the first place." And so apparently tunnels cave in. A lot. And a few moels play pranks because, as Lemo says, "they're stupid idiots." Awkwardly, since they're not diga-doing much about it, I suppose I'm like supposed to go look for that one guy. O...Om...O'Mel, yeah, that. Him. My eyes steadily raise from the rooted ground and knock around in search of some small moel or another. Like, brother. Little brother. Lemo's little brother.

Faintly, just out of my hearing, the cackle of Foster's diga-disgusted yawning diga-draws in my girls, one of them—Bliss—yelling at his sensation while the other two stare through slitted eyes, cutely copying each other without knowing it.

Faintly, while I'm not paying as much attention to the world at large as I should, something brushes by my fingers. I diga-don't really notice it the first go-round, and maybe I wouldn't even remember that first tap if it wasn't soon accompanied by a second. A bonier one. Like, like, like... claws. Claws. And fur. Lots of caramel fur on a little body even smaller than me, goggles diga-dawning upon its eyes and a great, fuzzy hat, puffball on top, balancing on its head.

Its fingers have curled over mine.

It takes a moment for everything to register.

"YEEEEEEEEP!" I diga-dodge back I pull back I try and try and try but I'm not diga-doing something right because it's still right there, beady orbs behind blades of glass looking ready to beat me right up, no matter how much of a pipsqueak it may be. Oh, and pipsqueak it is. The entire thing springs at my motions and it stares at me almost curiously.

He. Wait. He. Resembles Lemo. Just... diga-doesn't feel feminine or whatever. He. "You okay, lady?" one of those child voices where they're still fumbling over the words greets me. "Don't scream please. Screaming is kiiiinda scaaweey."

Blinking furiously, embarrassed, I mumble, "I'm sorry..." to which a tiny scribble of a grin replaces the thing's gaping mouth. He... nods a tiny bit and gestures toward the big river thing. "Do you like ad...adb...adb-bentures? Are they fun to you, lady?"

Wait is he asking me—oh wait. The adventures, he's... he's... Those eyes begin to widen and form and there are tiny tears and if I say no I'm going to make the biggest mistake in my entire life. Fretfully, I nod, muttering, "Uh yeah sure..." This isn't going as well as I thought it would. Now I'm stuck. Oh, turd.

Because there's no way I'm getting out of this, I slowly and fearfully nod as the moel a bit shorter than me begins to nod back. If I wasn't so terrified it'd probably look kind of adorable, but I am, so... "Big Brubber ac...acksidentully lost his vii—bi...bibobuar me-medals, so I gots them! We can go lotsa fun stuffs! It'll be like... like... adbentures! All adbentures! Super bestest adbentures! Like... like... yay!" Out of nowhere I feel an untimely tear rock off my cheek as I recall someone else who loves "adbentures"... someone who loves adbentures, just like me...

And before I know it the kid uses this opportunity to nab me—why me of all freaking everyone—and we scamper off into the river, the river that wades to my ankles and to the poor thing's knees, his claws or toes or whatever sucking diga-deep into the mud until I'm pulling him out and we're running and I can't believe what just happened. He's diga-darting into a cavern area and tugging me with him so I guess it's all over now.

But he's a cute kid, I guess.

Oh gosh. He's also Lemo's younger brother, isn't he.

Whatever. There is no way I'm gonna try to get _that guy's_ attention. We'll... just... see how this goes and I'll cross my fingers and _not_ ask the ancients to spare us no thanks no thanks, um... we'll just be fine. The end. Probably. I miss diga-Dino; I wish I hadn't left him behi—

 _rrrrrrrrb...rrr-rrr-rrrrr-rrrRRRRRRRR..._

And there goes our entrance point. I guess we can't leave that way anymore. Not really sure if that's okay or not... it'll... uh... it'll probably be fine I'm sure. Somehow. I bet. Um, maybe. Awkwardly, I hold onto the hand of the one who bestowed them toward me, and we silently creep through the diga-dank and diga-dark tunnel that yawns and licks and waits for our diga-debut. Not feeling comfortable about this. Not feeling very comfortable at all about this.

Freaking diga-Doug.

 **XD That was very interesting, hahahaha. I've been waiting for the moels to actually show, so... exciting to write... buuuuut I didn't get a lot of sleep last night so it also took awhile... nnnn... heh, I think I'll just revise this chapter tomorrow... I might go to bed early, eheh... -zzz...-  
(So yes. I did take a day longer, hahaha.)  
(and then fanfictions was like hey you can't upload today so... -shrugs- Oh well. I got it done. It's not like any of us will remember this by next month. xD)**


	25. Ja: The Adbenture Beginses

**Jkonna: For some reason I feel very strongly against children.**

 **Dino: owo where are you**

 **Jkonna: diga-don't ask me**

 **Dino: what**

 **Jkonna: ask the child, digadig**

 **Dino: what child**

 **O'Mel: Hewlo!**

 **Dino: GO HOME AND BRING BACK JKONNA**

 **O'Mel: -doesn't know her name so he can't really say for himself-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 25: The Adbenture Beginses

Or so it sings in the back of my head as the tune of falling rocks quickly becomes old: he looks nice, he looks nice, he looks nice. Well, you know what? Thomas looked to be a pretty nice guy too, when I first met him; look where the heck that toiled him up into. He's practically gone, he practically froze up the entire island, he's got way too much power for one single entity: scary. I wasn't around when it happened but that diga-doesn't mean I diga-didn't feel it slice like ice through the core of my body. A chill I'd rather not live with. There, now. There.

He's tugging again. Wildly. He's tugging. Little fuzzy butthead, his claws piercing through my clay fingers, warm and fleshy like it just went through a kiln. I diga-dunno if I'm very good at trusting others now. Like, Vivosaur Island is one story, one fresh novel of twenty or so people who I know like that one sidelong strand of hair that bounces around by my side. Twirling around my head like a moon to my diga-dark planetary face. Cautiously, almost subconsciously, my finger twists around it, and I sigh at the futility of it all. Before I get much into my sadistic state the kid tugs and he tugs hard and if I diga-don't focus I'm landing on my face.

O'Mel's bright kid face comes jerking back towards me once or twice: I'm not quite sure what he's making sure of. I mean, he feels my hand; he knows I'm here; and even if I somehow was replaced by some other person I mean my flipping fire hair whips at him every couple seconds cuz it's so long it's stopped listening to general rules of the earth and up and away it goes. Absolutely everywhere.

He's a soft orange; fuzzy orange, like a vivosaur I'd want to snuggle with. Those smilo guys are... like... red and yellow, and fuzzy and mammalian, so that's pretty close. I swear Pauleen had some smilo vivosaur... he never talked, which was kinda creepy at first, especially to poor traumatized Bomba, but then we realized he just diga-didn't like to. He was... against it. Simply against it. Repulsed by the thought of himself using speak, funny since he has not a problem with others.

What was that thing's name again? It was kinda cute, kinda weird... uh... uhhhh... Sivan, that's it. Sivan. His eyes were like miniature grapes, when he reigned them upon you, and he always seemed way too overprotective of... something.

Again the boy glances toward me, only this time instead of going onward he swerves quite rapidly, squealing all the while, as I soon learn just what all the actions add up to. Claws flash and heads bash against the great walls surrounding this diga-ditzy tunnel, circular circular spiraling falling, colors that must be my hair and my kicking and screaming feet rushing up against all this sudden contact. It's out of nowhere and it's random and my freaking tunic begins to pull against the wind, unlike my hair which pulls like a funnel straight diga-down through this new and terrifying hole.

All I really wanna know is why this creature wanted me to join him in on this torture: why me of all others to choose of, why oh why me.

 _Because..._ heavily intones Foster, until his voice diga-drops for a time there and we're all staring at him as I'm being forced to just fall, only he adds nothing to his forlorn "because." Hair rapidly slaps at my once again diga-drenched in diga-darkness sense of self. He still refuses to cooperate, until finally, _What? Stop staring at me. I forgot what I was going to say._ He ends it with a pout.

Sometimes I really really hate him.

Only the void grows endlessly longer, and our trip becomes endlessly dig-darker, until it feels like all those tiny pinpricks of light I see are actually just my gaze growing so helpless it feels like there's stars everywhere. Half of the time I curiously wonder if I should feel this... woozy. Like swirling, spinning, twirling, a diga-ditzy Jkonna whose loss of self has become so inky and imbued in the black that I'm all but whirling wind capsized into this hole. It's yucky business. I think I'm either seasick or ready to... like... hurl. Oh, gosh, no, I diga-don't wanna hurl. Diga-Dino has all the diga-decencies he wants; I'm still a freaking lady shut up... The scent of cool, untouched diga-dirt wafts up my nose and I'm about to choke.

Eruptions occur like small expansions of galaxies in the back of my head. I swear I feel the smallest trickle of flame over there. It itches. It's... hot. _Hey, um, hey, Bliss?_ itchy voice squawks, _when do we start screaming again? You said we have to scream if we... like, um... fall in another hole, after the first one. It... adds to the... special effects or, uhhhh, something? Bliss? Bliss! Stop screaming and pay attention, I'm asking something important!_

 _YES, DO SCREAM, STUPID._

 _EEEEYYYAAAAAAAAAHHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_ Slim bill splitting in two cracks of hot red, Bomba diga-does just that. Diga-doesn't even question a single part of everything. Yeah, I'm pleased that Bliss now knows how to be herself again, but... wait... what's that crawling sensation? Awkwardly I plaster some fingers against one side of my head... where that flabby thing—my ear, my ear is... and... uh... well that's new.

My eyes buckle. _Someone get them to shut up. My ears are literally bleeding, digadig._

Foster casually yawns at the news. _Hrrrm? So I see. Haaah... I swear someone mentioned some vivosaur you met once... short and stout and blue, I think, who was that sarcastic before? I think it was someone who wasn't me. Since, I'm new, of course._

 _Foster._ He's rubbing it in as I am literally. There is red and it is sticky and it is runny and I can't tell that it's red but it's something I just know, because what else would it be?

He catches onto this. Quickly the flames of revolution putter out. Almost like this was... his idea. But Foster can't scream so I'm gonna pretend I still rely on him, that maybe, just maybe, for once in his life, this isn't his own Foster fault. His thick, long neck, addressed in gray, rises, and those diga-dull eyes of his cut through my skin, my flesh, my heart, diga-down diga-deep into the selectively permeable access of my soul.

Oh my gosh. Stop looking at me like that, you weirdo.

Softly he murmurs, _Short, stout, and blue... hmm, I wonder what to do... Short, stout, and blue... where oh where may he be... He or she, ahem, excuse me. He._ Those orbs of his, embedded within him far diga-deeper than they should be, wander along again, like nothing of the sort happened and he's just being weird again.

Just being weird. What if this act of his... what if, like, there is no "just being weird" with Foster? What if... what if he's literally onto something? My brain opens great and wide into possibilities as my bum slides diga-downwards from that slope and suddenly that cloud of big gray fluffy diga-drizzles that diga-drown me in diga-Dino lose themselves within bright rays... bright rays of light. Light... it's so beautiful and free and, um, it's so... it's so pleasant... and new and... I can almost...

Reach out my hand and...

and...

Diga...Diga...Din—

 _BLURF._

Once again my face meets some miraculously cold earth. Even stuffed in with all its chills it still makes room for me. I feel so welcome now. Not. No. Help me. It's getting to this point where I like almost can't breathe and it's incredibly uncomfortable. Choking, splattering bits of diga-dirt pathetically, I diga-drone off for some chance of purchase into a smooth flooring that quickly accepts me as well. My gosh, why is the earth so kind today? Heck, you think it'd be nice every day, since Bliss the acro, the earth vivosaur, acro, exists, but only now diga-does it slope so simply, so slyly diga-does it sink into me here. Wow. I feel so lonely.

Diga-Dino never had this problem with diga-Droplet. Freaking.

Coughing, splattering, my head eventually wends its way around my hairs and up, out of the earth. Awkwardly I scrabble against my bruised chin, noting the blacker spots, and then back to my knees, chewed into a healthy brown paste now crummy and stuffed in diga-dirt. It itches. Snorting, I scrub what I can mend off on my own. Finally, as my head swerves, I diga-decide that because I can't see airstrings in total diga-darkness, I guess that means I will be using Bomba's ability. Slowly the arid scent of ashes coils around me, nearly diga-drowning out all the musty earth.

This isn't gonna end in my favor. I inch toward her mental capacity anyways. Simple, her thoughts, never diga-deep and meaningful, as she hides nothing, but they're kind. It's not a bad simple or anything; it's good. It's... almost gentle in its way. I'd call her gentlemanly, but... so anyways she's ladylike but with the attributes of powerful but unswerving and reasonable, kind gentlemen.

But like, she's a girl, too. Honestly, out of all of them, she's the most masculine. Morie's like that strict mother; Bliss is the lazy, loud-mouthed kid who follows you around everywhere; Foster is that weird stalker guy. And then there's Bomba.

Very soon, a small halo of bright, fiery light begins to encircle me. As I move, it follows, and I soon realize that in this tiny porthole of a chamber, there is no airstring. Uh, I'll be okay. I've lived this long without really... needing one... that much. I mean, it's diga-dark, but... but...

Gosh, I've had Bomba for ages. When the heck diga-did these weirdo moel guys stop using their vivosaurs so much for light? It's... better this way. It just is. The whole airstring concept still freaks me out some. Like, what's wrong with lighting yourself in a gentle show of flame? Is there anything I shouldn't be diga-doing here? Hrr... these guys are annoying...

Suddenly the fire flickers, wobbles, until it's gone. And I'm left alone again. _BOMBA!_ No response. _BOMBA!_ No response. How diga-does she diga-disappear s-so quickly? Bomba, come back... now I'm all alone and it's all diga-dark... and it's cold... Sooner rather than later I figure that while the earth is frigid, this air soaks through my skin and lives within me. I diga-don't like the chill very much. Heat's always... been a bigger preference, just in the face of things. And here I am. I can't see. It's cold. It's diga-dark. I'm underground somewhere.

I lost diga-Dino.

Thick, harsh tears of reality collect from within.

Because it's scary here. Okay... I'm more of a wimp than I'd like to think for myself. I'm... a big, stupid wimp and everything is scary. Not everything but... but things are scary. Certain things. Diga-Dino, like a knight in shining scales, he's never scared, never shows off his quaking self on the inside, and I diga-don't understand why but sometimes it makes me feel isolated. I'm scared of the diga-dark. It's a lonely feeling, right here. Lonely... Hopelessly I call out for Bomba, for Morie, for Bliss or even Foster, and all are moot to my ears, their voices mute to me.

A shudder escapes through me when I realize what I have to diga-do. Just as soon as that thought roils in a flash of diga-doubt crosses me and I wonder why. Why I've... gotta diga-do this. A lonely breeze seems to flit through my soul, but I kinda figured out by now that I... have to... I have to...

"E-er... um... O-O'Mel..? Y-You there, digadig..?"

He can see, right? Little boy. The little moel. I've never... called out to him before. Never accepted him. It's hard to accept things when you get a bad first impression on them. Like you grab their clawed fingers, feel that pulse of fur against you, when you were expecting scales of diga-Din-Din the entire time. Some random moel here to screw up literally everything and it's freaking scary. Sorry. Ah. I can't help it. Scary. Just like... Naaaah... let's not think abou—

"Hewwwlooooooooo? Laaaadeeeeeeey? Waaahhyyyy d'you knoooow my naaaaaame?" Um. Oh gosh. I diga-didn't consider this part of the story. We just fell and then... now I'm blinded by fear and it's... ugh. What diga-do I say... um... um...

The truth, I guess. If you can, the truth is always... always the best answer. "Because your big brother... told me? Um... Lemo, digadig, Lemo told me your name cuz he's looking for you right now. And... um, diga, I just kinda knew." There. Perfect. I diga-did it. My throat knots on the inside. It's suddenly hard to breathe.

Tiny, finger-like claws that I can't see take my hand. Little unto my larger. Like I'm protecting him, they wrap around. He whispers in that squeaky kid voice, "Y'look scaaawwed, lady..? Why scawed? It not scawey... it home. This... home."

"I'm... sorry..." Shaking. Shaking a lot.

The little moel kid he is, he's chipper all over again. "No, it okay, lady! I'll just hafta show you round the place and... an' make you realize it's the best home evereverever! Then it'll be super better! More, den! Moooore adbenture! Let go let go let goooo!" It takes a couple moments for me to realize he diga-doesn't mean for me to release him but that he's gonna start running.

Why... diga-does he already... care this much about me? I'm just some stray redhead he picked up earlier. Sure, redheads in and on their own are a little rarer than other hair colors, but that diga-doesn't count for anything. It's the inside. And... what the heck is my inside? My... heart? Um, never... never really considered myself special or anything. I guess it's... almost magical, then, what some entities see in others, the wanting to stay with them anyways. No... matter what.

It's diga-dark, but he can see, and he leads me easily through this nexus of a home of his. So easily, so simply, so wordlessly knowingly, I almost feel a little safe, enshrouded in all this near-lifeless glory. But almost. There's still a gap I diga-dunno if I'll... ever be able to fill. I miss him. Why diga-did I leave him. Why diga-did I let him lead me away from him in the end. I know why; but still it diga-doesn't feel right.

It makes poor little O'Mel feel like a diga-double-edged blade. But I gotta... I gotta live with this, until I diga-do see him again, and then it'll be okay. Or better. Or whatever. Just... just gotta keep going. Gotta.. let this furry kid lead me where he wants me to be, if I ever stand a chance at finding my own way home again. My own home. Honestly... diga-Dino's probably more a home than anything; he's... he's like safety to me. My best friend. My honest-to-goodness favorite person I've ever met. He... understands me. And he's... he's...

maybe a little bit, I diga-don't trust him on his own. Or maybe I just diga-don't want him to be alone. Or maybe I diga-don't want to be alone; I'd rather be by his side than anything else, and it's scary when I'm not. Gosh, I must seem like such a sister or something. Or a girlfriend. Ugh, I hate it when people think I like him like that. So annoying.

Silently our feet run sprawling across land that almost feels welcoming, the faster we go. It's funny; I almost... when I think about it, I'm almost happy that diga-Duna is gone now, and diga-Dino can't... feel that way about others now. Because it means no one... will ever... ever be able to... um... replace me. I'll... always be there. Maybe it's selfish, but now I diga-don't have to fear that some girl's gonna swoop outta nowhere and make him so hopelessly lovesick he... forgets.

I can look at him now and understand that he wouldn't go. It's... who he is. Heck, it's who I am. I feel better with that understanding in me, that he'll be here, and so will I, and we won't have to leave or any of that sadistic stuff. It'll... it'll be okay. I think.

O'Mel tugs. I try to go faster. It almost works until I trip on flat earth and go sprawling into the cold. Almost... almost I just wanna lay here and wait for him to come back for me, but that moel tugs and tugs. What a child. Until I simply know that I can't lie in wait here. Sometimes it's not easy to go on—okay, ow, stop tugging, I'm moving.

"Lady?" he asks after I trip a few more times. It's a high-pitched cut into an otherwise mostly quiet area. Well, besides the fact that I keep... tripping. "Can'cha see in here? Can'cha see? D'ya just trip a bunches?" I can just imagine those tiny pinpricks of eyes scouring over me, so confused on why I'm freaking weird and freaking myself. I wonder what it's like for him, tiny little fuzzy ball of wondering, staring up toward weirdo me, not sure at all, quite very unsure, on why I look back at him so confused. My face scoured in diga-dirt and other lovely markings. Because I can't see.

Now how to explain that to a child. "Uhhhh... kid, um, you... y'see, kid, it's like... it's that... diga." I sigh. I'm not good at this. "I'm not like you guys. I'm... diga-different than you. I'm not like you."

His eyes seem to flare, and though I can't even see a speck of them, I feel them hot and roiling like flames shooting through me. "N-no! Not true!" Oh gosh. "That's not true! Cuz you are like me! We... we frenses now, and so we're like similar! Not... not different! I don't wanna be different from lady!" Awkward, coughing, I'm not really sure what to say to that. I mean... like... it.. it's sweet. Really and truly, that's kind, thoughtful, sweet, the whole package. But... ugh. Now I'm screwed.

"The diga-dark isn't... my home. It's where you, little diga, where you belong: not me," I look back as my words mumble away. Into the black, just like everywhere else, they go. They melt. For once again, that rarity happens, my voice choking back, soft and forgiving again, not burled in flame. Freaking children. This better not happen on Breckan's birthday party or I'm gonna be ashamed of myself. Or whenever we diga-do visit the orphanage...

Softly, O'Mel squeaks. "Nuh-uh, then that's what I saids we were gonna do! We gonna show you home and you'll like it!"

"I'll try." Can't really... say much to that. This... weirdo moel kid... gah... I shake my head, and maybe I diga-don't see it, but I sure as heck feel my bangs go flitting across my forehead. It's one of those strange little things that offers some coughed-up feeling of safety. Again pulling on my hand, so tiny and childish, the moel goes onward, leading me behind him. If it was lighter in here, I wonder what it'd look like: me, stuffed in bits of earth and soil and shivering, grasping the furry hand of a much shorter child creature, allowing him to waddle and pull me wherever it is we're going. An "adbenture." Quietly I wonder where diga-Dino is, what he may be diga-doing right now... what's going on in his head. Diga-does he know I'm... not there? Is he... um... diga-does he wanna... diga-do something about it? Probably. He... he is diga-Dino. And that's... all he'll ever be. That's who I want him to be.

The half-diga-drowned gasp of a futabi returns to my ears. Almost faintly, I swear I hear the splashing of him swimming. Weird, when... there isn't any water in my mind, I think. It's this grasping sound, like he just made it, like he's freaking out. _By golly, I almost hate you. Oh, nearly, so nearly, Jkonna, do I almost hate you. I'm not sure if you should feel thankful or not about that, but there you go._ Yawning, Foster lowers his thick head. A fin raises to itch at his diga-dry nose. Always is he so diga-dry, the complete opposite of diga-dripping diga-Droplet.

Groaning, he grumbles, _It's not like my name is Droplet, now is it? Or Sunny... or Ocean Wave... or..._ Diga-dramatically, he pauses. _Trikko. No, oh no, my name isn't Trikko either. But I guess he's dry too... hrrrrmmmm..._ Somehow, it still feels like he's waiting for... something. What? I diga-dunno. That's great. You have fun with your... Trikko, or whatever it is. _You're so boring, Jkonna._ I try to take that as lightly as I can. Get infuriated and some adorable creepy moel's gonna have his hand squeezed hard.

I swear, if that's exactly what Foster's going for...

As his own waters rustle, so diga-do my chances of catching glimpses of my other vivosaurs, too. Bomba, just on the edge, once more refuses to use anything according to fire because again she diga-didn't diga-do it she can't fire! Morie's... trying to consult her. It's almost working. And much closer, almost blocking out the signal in my brain to all other thoughts, Bliss promptly squishes her bum diga-down in front of everything but Foster. And she cackles. And she giggles. And I diga-don't like you now, Bliss. It's reassuring to suddenly, well, see their faces again. I guess. But O'Mel hasn't left and I diga-dunno where diga-Dino is and—

 _Stop worrying for a moment! I'm quite glad you at the very least managed to get back to me again! Ahhhhhh, you make me so worried, Jkonna! Don't—don't you know this by now, anyways? Um... now... my motive here...I'm not making you be grateful for anything, no.. umm... I just... want you to... stop worrying! Again!_

Sighing, my gaze lingers on the ceiling I think is somewhere up there that I most obviously can't see. Fiery sparks of a tone grumble, _Yeah, yeah, because I'm trying to diga-do that so I run outta steam and go crazy or beat up Rosie or something. I'm totally trying to diga-do this, it's not at all like I diga-don't want to. This is allllll my entiiiiiiiire plan. And now you're diga-duping me, aren't you? No, not saving and scolding me at all._ Somehow it feels good to get that off my chest for now. Sidelong, I wonder if the little moel guy hears all the conversation casually bubbling around him. But at the same time he might just not be focusing much on it or anything. Sometimes I'm like that too; same goes for diga-Dino. That's... um... that's okay.

His branch of a paw squeezes my trunk of a hand, the strength of a tree bending rapidly, on each other. Curious, I watch out for tiny glints of metal just below my chin. It'll show up and fizzle out every once in a while in a furiously meticulous . Morie continues trying to calm me in that half-yelling, all squishy and motherly tone even as we both know she isn't getting anywhere. Maybe he can't tell. But maybe he... oh gosh, I trust Foster diga-didn't scare him or something. Pour chills into his sweet little moel heart. Okay, I can have bits and pieces of fear on his brother, but this guy... so tiny and sweet and clingy and I diga-dunno if I wanna let go of him he's so cute help me. I can't overcome any of this cuteness. It's too much for this mess of a Jkonna.

As if to diga-display just what he knows, he halts, then. I nearly go slamming into his tiny body and my face flushes of guilt because of it. Ugh, I'm so awful with children: their adorable tiny sweet selves choke me up until I'm in tears about them and it's just too much. I love kids way too much, oh my gosh. He's silent for a moment; and then he stirs; "So, um, um, lady, we're gonna bees in the... in the Wishin' Well, so, ums, you gotta come see it with me. It's real pretties and theres's lights theres too. Cuz it... it's all.. um... popular place and stuffses..." he mumbles off. It's too much. I'm gonna diga-die.

And so finally we find ourselves in an area that, as soon as I come in, whacks my head in something thin, long, and very metallic. I groan. Diga-don't have the sense to diga-do anything about it. Bliss eventually has to crawl out of her medal and pull the stupid thing for me until, out of nowhere, bulbs of great warmth encroach. Like baby suns, somewhere on sidelines I can't see, they fill up the space in a great light that I've needed for so long. Excitedly I pull at O'Mel's hand: a habit I've diga-done with a certain someone for awhile yet.

It's okay now. It feels... better now. It's open, and bright and... there will be others. I think of them, of the people I saw when I finally left that starship behind. The faces I could recognize. The people who knew me. The ones that wished to... see me again. It was okay. It wasn't lonely. Heh... Usually, since it's so diga-dark at night, people go to sleep then, and then there's not much out there. But... but it's always diga-dark here. Always. Gently I clasp the hand given to me a little tighter.

Diga-Dino... he isn't alone up there right now: is he? He... he found that one guy... the one guy I diga-don't like very much... who's our age, probably a bit older... that guy. Lemo. Uh. Yeah no I diga-don't wanna touch the name. But he's... he's not lost, is he? He's so freaking skilled when it... when it comes to losing himself. I feel like I've been tossed into the biggest, most impractical fog ever just not being there with him, not to mention the fact that it's so freaking black here. And my... my entrance. It was lopped off and out. They'll be searching for us, for O'Mel, but...

His tiny body propels me until we reach a great hole in the earth. Jagged, crusty, smelling of... of the sea. Here he sits and lets his feet diga-dangle just over the edge, a snatch of a diga-drop away. He's not.. scared about falling? Well, whatever, I am. So when I sit after him I diga-don't move my clay things of legs any far away from me; I stay all bundled up. It's cold in here, even with the... artificial sun thing, so... I'm okay. Or whatever. My icy gaze burns into the waters.

Such a bulge diga-deep enough that children can mess around and shouldn't fall in too easily, but if they diga-do, they won't come out without the help of a big kid. I wonder if they have any rules like that, that they can't wander without someone else. Especially little ones. If it's a big diga-deal when little ones wander off on their own. Perhaps that's why he took me, there's no other reason than if he's on his own he's in trouble. It's... probably nothing, um, big at all. Yeah... prob...probably. Not important or anything... hah.

It's very hard to pretend the keening of random freaking Foster in the background diga-doesn't exist. Still again, the moel diga-doesn't seem to hear. I guess maybe he... he has his brother's vivosaurs. His own scaly ones. His own problems. His own... everything. Yet he diga-doesn't wanna be diga-different. Gosh, what is this kid? Well, um, that's the thing: I diga-don't know right now. We sit here, all idly, near each other, but I diga-don't know him. All I can understand here is that he... wants to know more about me. Cautiously, awkwardly, I scoot closer to the tiny thing, to the water, where, if I look hard enough, I can catch wobbly silhouettes stricken with color. Great, fiery knots of hair enveloped in strands of diga-dirt in more places than what I'd like to admit to myself. My tunic, splattered in an array of diga-dust and simple patches as well. My bangs and the swirly thing to the one side all frizzle in the wrong diga-direction. The kid to my side, he looks the same. Even with my skin color, somewhat diga-darker than his... it just makes me stick out all the more. I guess they're born looking like the earth around them.

Home. His home. Um... O'Mel's home is here. Then... where am I, now? Glancing cautiously, through the stones and the shades and the blues in the sea right there, I look like I'm just a simple mess. It's funny, taking things to such a small pace. Makes me feel... small. Unimportant. Meaningless. Even though I... I know I'm not, for a number of reasons.

O'Mel swirls his head round and round as he watches the salty seas awash just below him. Yet... almost a lifetime away. "Hrm-hrm-hrrrmmm! No one... No one here? Awww, bor-iing! Wanna play tag or wanna play camo-seek! Bor-iiinnng..." his voice softens with each swing until he's staring into the nexus beneath him.

"EEEP!"

In five seconds less than I thought it'd take me my hand splatters off into the waves and catches him before he can fall. Awkwardly I carry him using my hands alone back onto the peaty earth where he belongs. Morie mentions something about motherhood and I ig-more her. Hahaha. Ow. That pun.

The waves ripple, stilling and accepting that they can't have him. Because that's... not allowed.

He cowers in a tinier form of himself, curled up right by me. I diga-don't know what to say, how to comfort, but I try to pat at his caramel fur and I diga-don't say much of anything. There's a lot of breathing on him. Much of my... Jkonna air coating his furry soul. I wonder if he notices. If that's.. okay. He diga-didn't want to be diga-different...

Softly, suddenly, he asks in that tiny, childish voice, "Name... lady? Name?"

"J-J..." My eyes advert. Why... he diga-does care... really... why... Um, well, I shouldn't give him my real name. Kids can't pronounce it... um... um... "Jina. J-just call me Jina, digadig." What's wrong with me.

He's silent again. A strange aura of peace bubbles about him, now.

Since I'm a digadig, we'd think that I should feel more at ease here. I've gone through a few tunnels... diga-Dino ran into one with me once. I diga-dunno why he was there with Rosie and feel very strongly about them having not a clue why I was there. He... has an idea now. We had to travel through all those tunnels at one point to find all those diga-doll shards... ah. The diga-dolls that he'd found throughout Vivosaur Island and his misadventures and all the people too. And whence he got them, diga-Duna tried to take them for the diga-dinaurians because they were supposed to reset our world and kill off everyone so they could try again to make their dinaurian species. But like, when all the pieces were found—there was a lot—and Raptin came out of nowhere and ruined everything... Guhnash showed up instead. And then he tried to eat the world like he had the original diga-dinaurian world, and diga-Dino had to stop him with diga-Duna, just after he learned about the whole diga-dinaurian thing...

He's been through a lot. No wonder it took him so long to wish to even try Vivosaur Island again. No wonder he stayed cooped up and tried to hide with his emotions in blankets and pillows... but he had to come back. That's... this... this is where all the feeling and all the safeness comes from. It's... rather interesting here, but it's also safe here.

He's... better now. He's okay now. He hasn't been staying up late at night now. He's been sleeping, living, diga-doing fine now. He's happy. That's... that's it: he's happy now. He's himself. Diga-Dino. And right now I have absolutely no idea where he is. And yet I... have to wait. O'Mel. I have to wait. It diga-doesn't matter how I feel about waiting but I have to for the kid. So I diga-do; so I diga-do...

It takes time, as all scary things take their time to diga-divulge, but he diga-does come, unruffled, to unfold, and recover himself quite smoothly. As a little kid, it diga-doesn't take much to knock him over, but it diga-doesn't take much to get him back up. The tears obvious in his shiny, black goggles—probably feels cool in them—the child lifts and tugs, pinching at the side of my tunic, as I myself get to my feet too. His hand finds mine; he tugs once more. "I—I like it further out," he voices softly. Coughs back the sniffles. Yes. Good kid. Be... um... tough. Yeah, that.

"C'mon, there's more funner stuffses too! Like, um, like there's... there's... the art walls! Art Walls... They made long time ago, I thinks! Real longs..." And so, by the voicing of a small child and what he wants to diga-do rather than take a thing at all for myself—diga-Dino diga-Dino diga-Dino—we apparently will next go to the art walls. Uh... art walls... Art Walls... at the sound of it, somehow, somewhere, I feel a sudden, rushing chill seize through my body.

I try to blame it on Foster.

Through hallways, eventually that last airstring times out because the light I felt, so refreshing and reassuring on my back, diga-disperses once we've traveled. Not even that far, because windows begin to poke the walls and O'Mel has a thing for windows, but it just... leaves us. I have to hold his little clawed fingers a little tighter if I wanna feel okay. It makes sense for this shifting unease to fill someone when they're swamped in diga-darkness, but by now, the extreme swizzling of emotions in me has caused my vivosaurs to blank out a lot and it's... nerve-wracking. Not even Morie's bickering hampers me any longer. It's just this... otherworldly loss of connection... with all but the small friend beside me.

Children are nice, though. They're fuzzy little creatures of reassurance that follow one around and they diga-don't voice against a soul. They like to play to understand their world. Their little selves, still striving more to find and befriend than who they are in any way, bundle around others. They agree and diga-disagree over the same things. They like big kids or they diga-don't like big kids. They like or they diga-dislike. It's that easy for them. And thank gosh I'm in the right area here. I've still got this kid on my side. My gosh, I like children too much.

But they're... trusting. Sure, I have a lot of friends who're way older than me and I'm sure they're all good but... but they're not like this child. They're not so small and simple like this. That's okay, it's just... they're diga-different, too. We're all diga-different. But... I guess we're also the same in ways. Outside the windows O'Mel's been investigating are mostly more slots of peat, just rooms further out in the Complex. Sometimes, though, he'll stop, and he'll ask me about his imaginary friends that apparently live in this room or that. Or maybe they're at someone else's for a birthday party. He has a thing for birthday parties too. The thought of it's so simple and sentimental that I choke up a little on it, try to rub the feelings away before he can see it.

Maybe that's why moels stay underground. Real light's... very bright for them. If they see underground like how I regularly see over. I guess not all of us yearn for sunlight. Some digadigs I, uh, knew, would rather stay in the tunnels than come out. They probably met moels and... related in that sort.

My own home... isn't so diga-different from their own, then, is it? They have those same values of warmth, safety, people you understand who mean a lot to you... he's got all that too, right here with all those fuzzy moels. It's... kinda interesting to think about. Still, I'd... I wanna find diga-Dino... I miss him... a lot...

Bliss, out of everyone Bliss, fizzles in again. _...so then I told Pippy the punchline and he... he started crying! I know! No, Morie, I don't know why, and don't gimme the look that it was my fault cuz it waaas noooot! Yeah... yeah I'm the one that told him the joke. Shut up. It's differe—hi Jkonna whaaaat's uuuuuppp?_

Softly, I groan. It's quiet enough that I think O'Mel diga-doesn't hear it. _Ugh. A lot is up. Lots and lots of tons of rocks for one. Y'know. All those... freaking rocks and... uh, everything. It's kinda lonely... heh. Diga-Dino's in here somewhere and it's stressing me out a lot._ I try not to show off my bleeding emotions in any way possible other than telling Bliss about it. Her angular acro self usually knows how to make me feel better... sorta. _O'Mel is this adorable child but I keep thinking about his weirdo brother and it's so big... in the Complex. And, diga, I guess he knows where he's going, but I diga-don't, and... and... y'know... it's... all quiet here._ Sh-shut up, that's a reason to be upset. I just hear diga-distant rumblings...

 _Haha! Of course you do! There must be an underground volcano nearby!_

 _Shut up Bliss you are not helping!_

 _Vol-ca-no! Vol-ca-no! Vol-ca-no!_

 _BLISS!_

 _VOL-CA-NO. VOL-CA-NO. VOL-CA-NO._

 _BLIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! DIIGAAAAAAAAA!_

Well, now there's no way she isn't acting like herself. There... was that whole... poetry thing... but, uh, whatever... whatever all of that was, once a time ago, it seems that it's over. She's... herself now. Like diga-Dino, too. They're all becoming at least close to themselves again, aligning with who they are, diga-deep on the inside. Worriedly I think of my diga-dear friend and worry for him, for what might still be... still be in... in store... That chill again seeps through me. My head whips one way through the penetrating black, then again through another, but of course I see and feel and tell of absolutely nothing. Just perfect...

O'Mel rapidly pulls in succession, and with a scooping wave, we're sent spiraling again upwards. Through a small stack of hallways, shortly diga-down the first flight of stairs I've ever diga-done in the diga-dark—please my last—until I slam into some wall and of course he diga-doesn't. His small form skitters around as I awkwardly lope after him. Satisfied, he eventually halts and his fur whistles through the wind he makes himself, until the _chik-chik_ sounds and the light again consumes. It's kind of him to diga-do that, especially if moels diga-don't need it as much as others. Just making artificial ones, just in case. It's sorta like a light... in case it's needed...

"Jina? See, Jina? See?"

Shivering, it's very hard not to scream when I learn what's on the great halls of Art Walls. Icy blue paint-like creations. Great, hulking eyelids attached to diga-drooping skins and pupils. Jagged mountains of teeth. Stomping toes the size of at least five Jinas around, more like ten, twelve. The faint _hisssss_ of flames. The faint stench of... of... of...

A sneeze rattles through me. Of Iggy. Wobbling, I'm not sure if I can stand much more and begin to slump toward the ground: Iggy, Iggy, Iggy. Ancients. Here. Right here. Unfortunately, somehow, it only seems to make sense. O'Mel diga-doesn't really register my reaction and hops around playfully, exclaiming to the top of his little O'Mel lungs:

"Looooooooook! Art waaalllsesss! Soo preeeettyyyyy and coloorss! Like... like _this one_ looks like youb!" Tiny claws patter and point pathetically at the mass of a monster that makes up a great chunk of Iggy's body. "And and and... this one's like your eeyeeeesseesss!" Diga-dashing just nearby, the furry creature, not even amounting to one of Thomas's toes, points out the frigid sauropod. "They, like, they were the first of aaaalll the cre—creeeetureses here! And and... they... they were the fiiiiirst bibo...bibosaurs! Innit coooool?"

I want to hurl.

Stuttering, he points happily to one further diga-down the road I can't even recognize. It's bright yellow. Thick, jewel-like underbelly. Haha, it's like... my face pales for some reason as my stomach loses all meaning. Like Nick Nack yeah, but.. but... like Nick Nack. "And and and," he squeals onward, "thiiiis one! It like! It sayses here dat it, it's suuuper loooooves peoples who are fancy! And it'll follow them rouund! But like it's... still fossily right nowses so.. um... no follows. But but but but! In the reaaal baack, there's a super duper cooler one! Super cool!" To emphasize just how much I need to see this, he continues using that word as he races for me and tugs, tugs, tugs. "Super cool! Super cool! Suuuuuuper coooooooooool!" Tugging, tugging, okay, fine, you're too much for me anyways. I follow. Sickened. But I follow. Try to stare at the ground.

At some point through my passage, a strange, thick, blanket-like presence wraps around me, and slowly, heavily, it calls for my name. I nearly bite my tongue off trying not to scream in front of the poor kid. To, to... protect him from these feelings. This fear that chills up and through me that I can't control. That scares me. Really scares me. Diga-Dino... He can't know. Can't. No. I try to calm myself and as usual I can't. My voice hitches once, twice.

"It's beaaaaaaaaaoooooootyfuuullll!" He excitedly squeals as I again try not to hurl in any way. Tugging, tugging, I try to focus on anything but what's coming up as we reach the very clutches, the very cusp and the end of this horrible chamber, him flicking airstrings I hardly take the time to notice along the way. My feet, stuttered, collapse over rows of rocky rows of stone. I feel alone. The heat in my diga-drains through all I touch. The kid bobbles and finally his claws tap against the blackened skeleton of a "bibosaur" he so diga-desperately wanted to show me.

Silence for a moment. Very slowly, for to go any faster would be to lose all conscious thought, I diga-drag my gaze across the big, clunky handwriting of the ancient moels who spoke of these guys. There were words on those other ones—like the yellow one that O'Mel read out—but I can't understand it and I really diga-don't want to. I really... really diga-don't want to. It's diga-dark and its flesh is in patterns of wherever, thick, diga-dripping horns struck through its head. A heavily-molded snout. Paws so blistered they're permanently stained purple. Wings seized through in holes.

Sickening, it looks like Bliss.

Squealing, he taps again against it. "Like... um, um, dis one, it'sssszz Bongabonga! Yeaha! He was... like, real meansies, but I hearded they founded him on another island, like they founded his soul and they gotted him real good and how he's bye-bye, so yay! But," he pauses, his whispers sizzling in the air, his fingers move, "I dink his daughter's out dere... and she's scawey too..."

Gently he claws and garners attention for the smaller vivosaur beside the... Bonga... uh... Vonga... uh... uh... It feels like Zongazonga. But I'm just guessing. Smaller and... tiny, shaking in place, this stick-like biped rests beside the thing. She's a pearly white, having strands of fur or hair of midnight diga-dapples across her too. Limp wings trail past her. She's... not very formidable at all. The Lone to that Bliss one. "She... she Boaboa. Dey... said that... long, long time go, with... with the deenureens... um... dee...nuree...ens. Dem! Like friend of youb!" Oh. Okay. Okay. Diga-dinaurians. Like diga...diga... d-diga-Dino... "Long time go, dey say dat her daddy was meanie and he hurt her and she got sad and ran way! And she...she inside..." His face sinks as he tugs on my hand.

"Dey say," he whispers hotly, leaning in very close to me once I've lowered, "dat she's inside one of them right... riiiight now. Innit scawey? But it prob-ly not real, it long time go. So... not so scawey."

Oh gosh, kid, I wish I could say that for you. I'm not gonna, like, tell him, but... My mind reels out of nowhere, and I struggle not to fall with the weight. Thomas... ugh... It's Thomas... I know he's still out there and I know what Iggy wants... what they say... it's... it's like what went on with the... uh, Zoa...Voa...Zoazoa? His soul. It's out there. It's not settled like his bones, because he's one of the first ones and so he's... he's got a couple of freaking special properties...

A little stronger... a little bigger—to all but Pippy—a little more... they have this leeway. Maybe their bones are back to diga-dust but their souls... Possession, isn't it? That's what... diga-Dino... diga-Dynal... what they were saying about... hinting over... Raptin diga-didn't like her... they said "intentions" but like... what diga-does that mean? He must've been... upset about... diga-Dina... being really weak. Diga-did he... have some awful baby Raptin plan to make it all better?

Diga-Dino diga-did. It'd failed, but...

"Come on come on come ooonnnnnnnn!" His soft, squeaky, childish voice beckons, so I... sorta should. Sorta... have to. That's okay. I wanna get out of here anyways. "If we go riiiight over heere, then, then we go to Waterfall! I love Waterfall! And if we go to the secret part Lemo showded me, then... then we can go on... on IceRide and we'll... we'll catch a... a glimpse of overground! Come on come on! Wanna... wanna show... wanna show Jina..." It soon makes sense, when I look at him, that his body's diga-dripping. He's tired. He's... ran around a lot through hallways, showing me little things about his world. It's a nice world, but... I suppose it's not my world. I belong... somewhere else. Not... completely sure where, yet, but... not quite here.

Diga-Dino... agh, where are you... For a moment, I swear I almost hear Foster's creepy keening, but it's scribbled out as my worries begin to fill me. I can't help it, y'know. He's... I gotta watch over him.

There are certain parts of certain lives... certain diga-destinies... that we all fulfill. Certain things that... it's us. It's what... we, and we alone, diga-do. Like... fate. Like... all those unexplainable little sensations. I have to watch over diga-Dino. I... he's... he's so... soft. It takes a lot of being around him to see it, since he unknowingly hides it with his crazy boisterous personality, but he is. It's so easy to diga-damage him... really bad. I worry for him...

As the child's footsteps slow, so diga-do my lulling thoughts. We walk at an ease, a pace I never knew we diga-did share. He's silent and soft in his voice, which I hear like a cushion as he breathes. I'm quiet, too. Quiet usually isn't a thing I use. I'm... loud. It's... y'know, it's just who I am. Diga-Dino knows. My so... diga-dear vivosaurs, they know too. I'm just loud.

Jina... he calls me Jina and he holds it, that little name, so precious to him.

Again I think of that time I was in the digadig tunnels and diga-Dino was there with Rosie for some reason, trapped by the looks of it as they wandered and he teased her and I was proud at that moment. I recall how silent I was then... hushed by the seriousness of the moment and the surprise that caked on me when I saw him. The secrecy of my position, until I told everything to him. All of it.

I miss you... I'm coming back soon, soon as I can, so you diga-do that too, please?

We're leaving this all behind me, but my heart only thunders all the harder in my chest, like this isn't the end at all. And I feel, somehow, a calm peak inside of me, an understanding that I'm going to see Thomas again... that I'm going to... understand him in... a way I really diga-don't want to. That he'll resurface, whether I like it or not. That Iggy will get just as he so diga-desires. It's nice to... know that, as much as I can't stand him, there is one ancient on our side, maybe even two—Thomas—but still those chills sink like bubbles on the surface of my clay skin, and I know I'm... not going to be able to forget this for a long time.

We diga-do find the waterfall he pointed out, and before collapsing into a well-padded canoe he diga-does show where the IceRide thing is. And we diga-do use it. It's soft and a simple slope, like it's meant as a "secret" for the kids. It goes on, winding, easy, as we sit quietly and the kid bounces sleepily, happily, to the canoe's weak jolting.

 _Bomba_

I think quietly about asking Morie if this is comfortable, if this canoe thingy is nice. But in the end I don't, I just pretend it is, because sometimes I like pretending. It feels... a little soft. So that's... um, good, and stuff. I like soft. Morie likes soft too. But if it's a person who's soft, she thinks they need lots of protection, to keep them from going hard. Cuz we need soft people, but we gotta protect them. She says it's not because I'm soft that she protects me, and I know that too.

I like soft things.

But I like Morie the most.

It's a real dark passage that we glide through. Like we're all winged, or we're all Fosters now so it's easy. Jkonna can't hear any of us, because Morie says she's gotten really blindingly scared in spots, but that's okay. I'll tell her all about how cold it is in here but how soft the canoe feels when she's back. Cuz Morie said she'll come back. Always will she come back.

Cold and chilly, frosty, really really black like dark, until slowly tunnel vision seeps out and the gently-rocking ride expands into a cliff's side. It's light here. Like, sooooo light. Tons of hills pop around here and there, so I guess that's Greenhorn Plains. Still the ride doesn't end yet, so maybe we're gonna stop and get out somewhere nice. I wonder where Dino is. Whenever I can get a glimpse at Jkonna's thoughts, it's all about Dino.

Morie says that only people in relationships share this closeness.

But, like...

It goes onward. Like we're riding the S.S. Foster and it's gonna do a really cool battle cry and we'll... go in and... attack stuff. Doesn't that sound awesome? Of course it does. We tramp in our boat and it is quite an interesting view. Winding, winding, it spins very slowly downward until finally we reach a part where the Greenhorn Plains is blocked out and it's all dark again. Ice and things pass by.

Somewhere by my side, Bliss laughs softly at the difference of dark and light. At the grass and ice. She finds it... ironic or something. I'm not good with irony, so I let her laugh. She's smiling... smiling... I wonder if that volcano she mentioned jokingly is nearby.

I don't like ice very much. I'm not sure why, but really, I don't. Hmm... Morie said it was bad for my health?

Quietly it slinks. I still don't see Dino? Where is Dino? Why isn't he here right now again? Hmm... um, how very weird. Because the boat is very stupid, it goes on without seeing Dino. It continues sloping and curving without sight of him, or Droplet, or Harei, or Lone, or any of them. Um... stupid much? Yeah. It's stupid much. It lingers and continues to move rather contentedly as it knows how stupid it really really really is. Super duper stupid, ugh.

It's warmer there, so I snuggle next to Jkonna's flank and rest my head there. Random feathers drift around from my head, and my body feels... really warm. I know it's not because I'm a fire vivosaur and fire vivosaurs normally feel that way, though, because I don't fire. I don't like fire, either, it's so... burning. And... mean and stuff. Yeah, it's real mean. Jkonna and I wait around for Dino but he still doesn't swim up to us.

 _Barrruuump. Baaruummmmp._

The boat happily bumps against some dock a couple times, but I'm uninterested. It stops here but I'm still uninterested. It's warm next to Jkonna, so I think I'll nap. Or, um, I would, if she'd get her hand off my underbelly and the other over my back and carry me like I'm some domesticated mammal thing. She plops me off unappetizingly by the dock's creaking boards and doesn't push off the boat like she should. I'd pout and close my eyes but some other really fluffy guy, I bet Lemo, just deposited himself, so okay then.

Oh, hey, look it's Dino. Um... Jkonna? Why are... why is your hair all colorful and flying around like that in the bright sky? Why are you collapsing with him? Why are you both so full of tears right now? That's kinda weird. I mean, yay, you're back, but, that's kinda weird. I don't really expect such a reaction. Narrowing my eyes, I wait in solitude.

Finally, as they're both breaking down borders and the breath of a certain Jina overcomes me, I'm able to catch a whiff of her mind.

 _T̵҉h҉͡óma͜s҉.҉̴̕ ._

 _He͘͢'̨͏͝s h̷e̵̕͞r̛e͜._

 _D͞íg͜a-̢D͡ino̵? ̶He̶'͘s ͡he̢re̢._

 _He͡l͏p̶ ͞me, d̢i̴ga̛.́ ̢I̛'m͞ ͟s̢care͢d̷.̧.́._

Well I guess that explains it a little bit.

 **Me: ...I'm sorry. I love Bomba way too much. xD She's just... she's so simple, but it makes her so chill and sweet, in a way...  
Oh, if anyone's wondering, the reason Bomba hates fire and is in such denial is simply as she says: she doesn't like burning. For... obvious reasons xD I mean, burning can be bad.**

 **So, yay, more Thomas hinting what does it meaaan~**

 **(Oh, um, since the big climax part of the story is coming up, the chapters are getting a little bigger from here on out! Excitement!)**


	26. Do: My Lovely Voices in my Head

**Dino: Oh my gosh so pumped and so freaking out.**

 **Jkonna: I AM NOT DIGA-DEAD OKAY**

 **Dino: DO WE REALLY KNOW THIS?  
**

 **Me: … :I probably.**

 **Dino: ARE YOU GOING TO DIE**

 **Jkonna: DIGA-DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT**

 **Dina: a-ahh...**

 **Rupert: -worriedly holds Dina-**

 **Me: Why not to reveal to your characters that the climax is approaching.**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 26: My Lovely Voices in my Head

 _Dino_

She's... scared right now. Like, really scared. Or at least, at some point, at one point, see, there was this point when she was out of her mind and shaking, shaking. Of fear. Fear of beings I talk to on a... uh, sorta regular basis—Iggy, that is. Just Iggy. I dunno, I think Iggy's a little old and stupid, like a "cool dad" who tries way too hard, but he has some aspect or two of his that reminds me of the best dad and the only dad, as in my dad. And Diggins, too, I guess, he's cool too. He's great. Wish I could say the same for Richmond, he of the old man ways, but... I mean, I'm too scared to face him for fear of the torture devices he'll use on me for... mis...treating his... granddaughter? Rosie?

Now Jkonna is sleeping. It's dark out, stars dotting pretty much everything, including me, and she's sleeping. Under a great blanket of the night, where dreams and the warmth of a soft safety will envelop her, and I, because I am stupid, will be out. Because I am stupid. Casually drawling, a yawn pops out of the back of my head, her great teeth smirking my way: _Yes, yes, we know, oh dear Dino, we know you're stupid. Mention it once next time. Though I guess that's hard, since, y'know, you're stupid. But whatever. Problem solving skills._

Softly, Pippy sniffs. His great, amethyst gaze beckons for me. _D-Droplet... that's not very nice._

 _Oh come on Pippy I used to get away with worse witty comments ages ago._

 _Y-y-yes, but..._ Squeaking, he falls short. I can't help but snicker. He's too adorable for me; those eyes lurk in the corners of my head. _I-I know that, but... but I... W-worry about you. Worry. I worry about you, D-D-Droplet!_ He recoils like it's the worst thing in the entire universe and he just owned up to it. Absolutely unbearable. It's unbearable just how cute my gigantic, hot-chocolate-brown seismo really is, and how much he doesn't recognize it. Droplet's so sleazy now with him, like a lazy river lolling around behind him. Where'd all that uptight energy go? Harei, what did you do.

She squeals upon hearing her golden name uttered. _I DID NOTHING!_ Aw, how cute, I made her face go red. Oops. Now she's upset. Hey—hey—darn it stop crying why are you all so emotional, ughhhh it's so awkward. But what the heck am I allowed to say? Droplet's emotional; Pippy's emotional; Harei's incredibly emotional; Lone is probably emotional; Iggy's his gay self what can I say for him. And then, of course, so am I, just like their entire lineup, oh, am I such a sadistic puddle of tears. No one can say anything against my emotional self. Sometimes Jkonna complains about it and then I laugh a lot at her, to which she smirks back at me.

It's just one of those things... one of those many things that feels like it makes the world go round. Y'know, little things like that. Tiny things that matter a lot more than you'd think they should. As I silently stare, with a great, awkward smile shimmering like hope on my orange face, Harei hotly coughs. She's still half in tears, but as well her golden soul has managed to clean itself up a bit. Not that I mind, whatever face she shows. If tears are shed, tears are shed. Okay, just if I find it embarrassing doesn't mean others can't do it. Giggling, under her tiny bill she murmurs, _Such a silly little weirdo... Eheh, silly Dino..._

Which of course I hear and my ears pink around the edges. It burns. A lot. _Harei! Ulgh, you're... you're being all girly. I almost can't stand it. It's shameful I've gotten so used to all of this. Yuuuck._ I'd continue on ranting but out of nowhere Lone butts herself in.

 _Yuuuuckkkk, boooyyyysssss!_ she gleefully squeals. I'm not really sure how thankful Harei is for that comment; her unstirred, dark orbs lay silent in her head. Trying again, Lone mumbles, _Because Dino's such a boy himself, ehhhh?_

Sometimes she tries a little too hard.

Not that she doesn't know this. Her cyan beak swirls around in some form of Lone approval when she sees my own response. Her furred, purple head preens itself, scaled neck and body elongating like she's gonna take up all the space ever with her tiny figure, and those accursed webbed talon _thingies_ on her claws extend, all relaxed in manner as her beak grinds around me. I just feel really insulted right now. Of course, it's not like some stick-bodied nasaur cares that much about how hard I try to be a man. Whatever, Lone.

Awkwardly, Pippy raises his great, thick trunk of a neck and blushes himself. _Ummm... Am I not a man, Dino?_ His adorable tone, sugared in that accent, nearly turns me to tears. I love it too much. _I-I'm sorry if I'm not! I know I'm not very fearsome or re-reckless, so I'm sorry that I'm not like that! Th-that I don't match up to what you look for from me! I'm sorry that I don't work up to the—_

 _IF YOU DARE TALK AGAINST PIPPY DINO I AM GOING TO BITE YOUR HEAD OFF AND I WON'T EVEN CARE WHEN IT INCAPACITATES ALL OF US._

My krona—I think she overreacts sometimes. Oddly, it only happens when I try to tease anything manly that frets Pippy to his poor wit's end. This entire time I've been diving for a punch line. Geez, love you too. As her watery snout breathes down my neck, I mutter in a voice all creaky and old, _Sorry Pippy..._ I don't wanna know what she'd do if I didn't apologize. She's like an overprotective mom or something. Is that it? Droplet, do you feel motherly?

The thickest, most awkward silence I've ever felt in this group only deepens. Arid, hot air, the kind that inevitably turns up at the worst and most random times, breezes, knots around us. I start to choke a little on it and Droplet nearly lops my spiky hair off with a _sshhhwiff_ of her hulking mass of tail.

 _And nobody feels like explaining?_ Not a peep. How lonely this is. I try to tone down my naturally happy tone to try and freak everyone out. _Not anything? You know I worry._ I don't think it works. Ugh, fine, guilt trip it is. _Um... guys... bad time but... I thought we were, like, y'know, a team? Anyone know what a team is? Anyone? Anyone at all?_

Lone, good girl she is, answers. Loudly. _YAAAAAYYYYY! TEAMS ARE US? WE'RE A TEAM? WHAT'RE WE GONNA DO? CAN WE BEAT UP WOOLBEARD? I DUNNO MAYBE HE'S A GHOST BUT CAN WE BEAT HIM UP ANYWAYS THAT'D BE SOOOOO FUUUU—_

 _Aaahhh, now I feel sooooo guiltyyyyyyyyyy!_ wails the dependable ourano. _R-really! D-Droplet, Pippy, why keep him in the d-dark for so long? L-literally, we should stop!_

I almost laugh when I remember that it's currently dark outside, right where I'm sitting. Then, staring at the sliver of moon that reflects my grin, I do laugh. It breaks the silence enough. The silence I'm sitting with all on my own, cuz my vivosaurs are just in my head right now and my goodness I feel awkward. I must look like some dingy little dork right about now. One of these days I need to accept that any man points I once had are gone, but that day is not today. Tonight. Whatever.

As they babble in circles around each other, I go all, _Dummies! Haaa, hahaaaa!_ For now, they're all still ignoring me, whispering in great ovals that give a wide berth so that I'm completely missing the conversation. If this has been happening for so long, how did I...

oh yeah... uh... never mind.

 _Okay... okay... I guess maybe we can... uh... darn it, now I feel all embarrassed and stuff and I don't wanna say it! Harei, am I allowed to blame you?_

 _D-D-Droplet! P-please don't b-blame me! I'm sorry!_

She giggles very softly. It's like petting the petals of a flower before releasing it off into the wind. Until that thick scent of seawater completely submerges me because I forgot how wet Droplet is... how wet she just _smells_ , all the time. _Ah, Harei! Girl. Chill! Okay, now that I've somewhat broken the ice, let's see if I can catch my breath and form words and then tell Dino what we've been hiding because he's an emotional popsicle and we're in a volcano._

If she's gonna keep trying to make this conversation less awkward, I think it's... juuuust a little too late for that. Just a little. Obviously. Lone, giggling, tries to shut herself up and decides in the end that it's safer to keep laughing than hold her breath. As it ebbs out, the mirth of the situation seems to drain through Droplet's glaciers of eyes. Her reflections again make me think back to my worried best friend, who because of her own anxiety births me some. See, we're very efficient like that.

Coughing, she mumbles practically into a fin, _A-aaaannywayyys... uuuumm... Sooo... liiiike..._

Pippy happily breaks her stuttered failure, grinning; _I love Droplet!_

It takes a moment. Then another. Quietly, and very slowly, precisely, I stand. My toes of obsidian, like the kind of rocks scoured by lava, tiptoe in place as my tail swishes around behind me, cutting at the air into tiny ribbons that soon recollects, like nothing happens. I suck in deep breaths because I feel like I'll need it soon. Maybe. But maybe not. My scatterbrained head stares around into the abyss of dark, where somewhere or another I think, like, if I turn a little to the left, I'll press into the old, aching technology of the starship that crashed into here so long ago. Secret Island. Yes. Quite a secret. I know. I know.

 _YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH DROPLET?_

The stars explode above my head, just in time for my knees to stop working as I fall hopelessly into scratched earth dotted in millions-of-years-old scars. I think my heart is confused. It's like... crying. And I think there's that glow of warmth trying to overtake it, but of course I'm still choking over feelings I didn't even notice, not the slightest, until right now. Not really sure what else to say, I mutter, half dead, painfully monotonous, _I want a hug._

Because she is the best krona in the entire world, because in the end it doesn't really matter how wet she is, because even in the darkness when all the stars cover my vision and my head hurts and it's all I can stand she's there for me, a finned presence careens out of her medal and graciously accepts me. We're about the same height, in the form she took. Patting at my head with a fumbling fin, her white edges all I can even try to focus on, her underbelly a hulking, dripping mass of snowy exodus, she murmurs like a freaking mom, _There, there? There, there?_ as she pats at my back. Suddenly it feels like Mom is alive. Even though I know she's not. Even though, through my bits and pieces of half-chewed memories I know she isn't this wet or this salty. Droplet just... her personality is a bit like...

Her hair was a bouquet of lilacs. Great petals of the stuff beating down her back. Not as long as Dad's. Funny enough. She had wings and horns too, the whole set, after she became queen. A bright, sunny, orange face, amethyst eyes, and maybe she was squishier than others in some areas but it just made her more lovable. Mom.

 _Oh. Gosh. Do not call me 'Mom.' I don't even remember my mom. It was probably Iggy._ Droplet tries to joke and now I want to cry.

A warm presence shoves her body against mine. It's shimmering in its golden self, its hips massive, its body massive, its name Harei. Like the sun, she warms me, she's here for me too. _U-um, I'll stay with you, because I love you too, b-but please don't call me a mom, either! I'd... rather not try to replace your own... um, you know... We didn't have special moms or... or anything, but... I'd rather not... rather not..._

Pippy splutters as his figure, greater even now, bigger even now, swamps us all in the sweep of his tail. _Don't cry or I will toooooooo! Aahhhhhh..._

Lone's tiny frame bunches up to my other side, winding beneath one of Droplet's fins as her head rests against the bulk of Pippy's daunting foot. Sobbing Lone. Of course she is. _Wwwwwwaaaaaaa...haaahaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh...!_ I don't know which of us is taking this moment worse.

Lone is beautiful like that.

Between my own half-baked tears, I cry, _I love you guuuyyyyyssss... aahhhhh..._

We stay like that for a little while. For some reason, I just so happened to be perfectly settled beneath a shaft in the ceiling where there once was a ceiling but now there isn't, so a light surrounds and brightens the moment. Very cheerful. Oddly... protective, almost. It catches in Pippy's earthen tail, wrapped around the rest of us. Our colors vary greatly and when I look at the lot of us I feel like a palette. Bundles of colors forced to be together, knitted beneath a shawl of shade. We're not all particularly the same, but we're also nowhere near different. Tightly-knit. Similar. Close... it's a good feeling. Me and my best friends, the voices in my head... ha... An odd, aching feeling echoes around in my chest when I try to joke it off. My head shifts and falls into the inviting spot of Harei's shoulder. It feels safer there. She doesn't even mention that I'm sobbing through layers of her sun-like scales. Silently, I'm grateful. For the whole lot of them.

They must feel all these thoughts bouncing off of me. I'm kinda surprised that what started it all is when Pippy just so graced my presence with the telling that he and Droplet are apparently a whole new—or maybe it's prehistoric—thing, a very happy thing, one I'm proud of them for sharing. Oddly... it's kind of a weird thing to say, but, like, I can _see_ it. Droplet's tougher but smug and laughable, smaller self beside the large, warm, snuggly, adorable Pippy: they really fit together. Gosh, call me a romantic but they're kinda sorta meant to... be? I guess yeah. Somehow I sort of expected in some shaft of my head that Harei'd be the one, though.

Spluttering, I soon learn a new fact. _I-I like_ girls _, Dino! L-like Morie and Bomba! I like girls! N-not..._

Half of me wants to choke. It's soon died out by that sweet, cute, shuddering, embarrassed form of my ourano, which I happily pat on the head. She hiccups. Multiple times. I do more patting. I think it helps her. To be patted. Of course I don't mind; anything to help my girls and Pippy.

The wind dies out. Any soft whistles halt very quickly, and the sobs that I hear and that I feel and that I connect with on such a level I didn't realize until now that I can't even say, it's all gone. There's nothing. Nothing but a soft, hollow laugh that filters like a blurry song through the back of my head.

Quietly, Lone pipes up: _Heeey, it's, not, like, bad, like, that I'm not interested in anyone is that a bad thing do I have to have romance is that bad?_

 _Is that, like, a thing? Can Lone and I be... uhhh... bachelors? Is that what it's called when you proudly don't like anyone? Can we do that together or something?_

Pippy giggles so loudly my heart nearly shatters right there and then. It's a precious little sound that I want to stroke and cherish in a tidy little jar forever. Softly, then, in a round, Lone's chatter adds to his massive cuteness, and Harei softly, one paw over her face as usual, laughs as well: always so shy, that one. Droplet happily finishes it out, her snout slapped backwards in the air, thick and hearty and vivid, full of love and life and laughter, so much laughter, the kind that ekes tears through her eyes as she tosses her head back and just laughs until her heart is so full she can hardly stand. Oh, Droplet... We undo ourselves and hesitantly stand. I recognize how cold the ground is. I don't like this. It's... icky. Like standing on this heap of compacted metal, some of it rusted over, other bits tarnished away or utterly torn, some of it scoured away in heaps of dirt. It's cold. Messy. Cold...

Slowly, I move. It's that kind of robotic chant of a step that takes forever to get me going until I warm myself up enough to be satisfied. Once I'm walking normally, my feet _plap, plap, plap_ on the uneven ground, Lone jumps and crawls and fastens herself so that her arms wrap around my head, feet stapled to my shoulders. She does it in this perfect way that locks up my sockets. I don't know why she likes that so much, to see the discomfort register and twist up my face, until she shifts into something way less killer and giggles accordingly, because she's Lone. And for some unknown reason I love her for it. A bright black hand reaches around to pat her oddly furry, deep purple head. She caws happily at this. The others walk around me, an unbreakable circle with Pippy taking up the entire rear.

It's more like a triangle, now that I think about it. One with me in the middle, Lone at the very top like three-dimensional point. We'd make it a square if...

It's colder. I'd rather not, now that I think about it.

As we stroll, lope around, the triangle starts to contort in on itself. Droplet curiously presses the buttons on the walls that don't work anymore. Her floating body, treading not water but either the atmosphere itself or maybe moisture, never could figure that out, slaps around the place. Mostly it meanders in all of Pippy's personal space until really, it's not personal anymore, it's where she belongs. His own amethyst orbs bore into her with this strange warmth emblazoned in them, the kind that tells me he doesn't wanna hurt you but he might accidentally if you get near his Droppie. Aw, how adorable. Pippy, you're too much for me.

Harei lopes around beside me for a bit, her hipped body huge and perfect for dancing as she trundles over here, little over there. She's full of a kind of warmth, one that's comforting, that only she can give off, that surrounds her but never touches her, really, at all times. Though it's all hers. She sways near me, smiles up to Lone, instructs her not to dig her nails into me too much—which she immediately does—and flounders along by Droplet or Pippy or both of them and hops around. Never does she leave the immediate side of another. Always does she keep around. I like that. I like that in her. Sometimes I'll stare at her so we accidentally catch ourselves looking at each other; it's fun because I know it embarrasses her. Adorable shy Harei.

We exit Secret Island's special starship from those millions of years ago exactly where we came in. That scissoring, crisscrossed gap accompanies us out like it always does. It's a winding nexus, that starship, but it'd be more similar to Dad's own ship if it wasn't this compact for travel. Back when... they were still exploring... the dinaurians found this planet and I guess sent some radar ship to see if anything was out there. Obviously something was or this wouldn't have happened.

Raptin was on this ship. He'd been searching around here. Duna begged him to take her with him. He's told me a lot of these things now. They'd been okay, all of them, obviously, just used the teleportation things, one of the many buttons on the necklaces all dinaurians wear—well, did. I don't. Still. Dina... Dina doesn't, um, wherever she is. They're complete with helpful lasers and dinomaton callers—our little buddies, like ancients for the ancients—and teleportation and disguises, and I think that's everything though there's probably more. It's just... convenient. I remember using the disguise thingy... pressing the teleportation button... then Dina and I took ours off, after that, and we ended up here... I cringe a little when I think about how stupid my past self was...

Dina... ugh... this guilt though...  
Where... where is...

Softly, the hat on my head coughs. _You gonna think about it or not? You'll probably start like crying again and all the fun stuffs if ya do. Right?_

 _Thanks Lone. I think I'll think about Raptin now._ Gently, my grin caresses the trees and grass and the leaves that beckon us further.

 _Okay. Then I'll think about Raptin too._ Her mind instantly fills with all the bad pick-up lines she's tried on him.

I love Lone more than what's good for her.

It's funny, sometimes, to think about back when Raptin... like back when... back before I was revealed to be one of the dinaurians, back when I still looked just as vivaldi as Rosie, or Diggins, or whatever. Back when my dad didn't know his son and daughter were alive and his son was right there and as soon as he realized, all of the depths of the anguish in his gaze cleared, and he saw through the fog of life and he saw me. Before all that, Raptin really, really hated me. Like, Duna kept telling him I was a good person and maybe I'm the prince Dino they've all been searching for and I had no idea what they were talking about back then, but Raptin, man, Raptin wasn't having it. It's funny.

He doesn't like it when he can't protect people. When I went missing, he must've been really upset... and in all honestly, I mean, what the heck can he do about it? Dina... when the monster possessed her all that time ago, he didn't like that either... aw, poor Raptin, he almost looks like a softy when I see him like that. I hope... before I'm finally out of my own fog and make that decision, that one about a lot of things, about Dina, I hope that I'll get to see him again. It was him and me and Duna and Dina, back then... when we were all still really young but he had some five years on us anyways.

Lone rumbles off random things about "angels" and "in your eyes" and turns her cyan gaze back toward me, her bill practically pecking off my nose, when she realizes I'm focusing a lot more on her than on my own introspection. _Yeeeeeeeees?_ If my voice was all feathery and fluttered and high-pitched and squeaky, I think I'd sound like her. Oh, and if I was a girl, that too.

 _Raptin's silly... but he's also a good guy, isn't he?_

 _Is somebody worrying about the future agaaiiiiiiiinn?_ Her bill quirks up in that way it quirks up whenever she gets all suspicious of me. _Yeeeeeeeesss? I would believe soooooooo? Diiiiinoooooooo?_ I almost start laughing for no reason other than the way she says my name. It's not all smooth like Diggins or Jkonna would say it, it's like this "deeeeeee-nooouuuuuuuhhhhh" that's so stupid I giggle beside myself. The spines in my hair shift around as her claws work furiously on them as she gets all suspicious.

Coughing, I mutter, _Yeaaahhh, I'm thinking about the future again... about what Jkonna said. Y'know? It reminds me of... like... when I found Iggy. Back when Rosie was trying to hold onto me and getting really nervous as I walked around casually in lava puddles until I found him. Like when I went... super duper far under Bottomsup Bay all on my own... for... um... for Thomas, back then. I remember naming him too. Sometimes it's just like random little things like that. I can't help but worry about him... about what Jkonna meant when she said he was, like, here or whatever. Heck, I can't help but worry about her._

The very air we breathe crackles around us and I can practically hear Lone thinking, mostly because she mutters as her thoughts start shifting. _Hrr-hrr-hrrrrrrmmm... Hrr-hrr-hrr-hrrrr-hrrrrruuuuummm.. Well, worrying saves nobody but your conscience! HA!_ That's not funny Lone. _Laugh at my funny joke!_ I am not laughing at that awful joke. _Laugh! I command you!_

She's trying so hard I almost start to tear up at the effort. Literally, my man points have washed down the drain. But even as I think this, I know it was a long time ago I must've lost them. I mean, heck, I was raised in an orphanage by a single and incredibly kind lady with a bunch of other boys like me. Awkwardly she splutters and nobody cries. Score..? Well... I guess I... don't really mind, right now... letting my emotions, um... pick up and flow...

 _There's nothing wrong with tears, my dear,_ languidly murmurs the krona behind me. Just by the way her fluid voice moves, and just by the fact that she calls me her dear, slimy droplets in my eye threaten to slink down past my spine. But I'll be okay. I mean, I love Droplet. I guess she's, in a completely non-creepy way, my... uh, dear. Sorta. For some reason I lick my lips and they feel arid, almost burning. What the heck, universe, stop being weird to me.

Softly, I whistle as I move, just a step or two. Something to keep my focus more on everything but what I don't want it to pinpoint: we're outdoors; the wind is blowing; the tides are rolling; the air is soft and smooth to the touch. A hulking mass of shiny called Captain Travers's boat lies in wait. He told me he wasn't moving but an inch as I wandered, and I'm not allowed to leave without him, not even if I promise Droplet takes me the right way home immediately. No riding. F-fine. It's weird knowing people care so much, this entire island, like an anchor, holds me ashore. I don't drown. Maybe I'm living, but the only reason my breaths come this steadily is of her fault. So, uh, thanks. You're not here right now; I hope you're sleeping really well now. It's, um, what you deserve. And that's no lie.

My hand raises almost on its own, plucked in a breeze, and I raise my starry-night fingers and gaze through them, toward the sky. They almost match, but the protective coating behind it all seems to hover in this preening, blue hue. I accept it and very much like it, as it's easier to see, reminds me of the constant humming in Dad's starship. Protective. Lone, bobbling rather Lonefully on my head just about now, kicks her feet around my shoulders as her grip strengthens. She murmurs some excuse about the wind being colder. I smirk, falling my hand to pat her puffy head.

Being the fearless crew they are, my vivosaurs scatter as they see fit around the island. Harei sticks as close to everyone while at the same time not being to far away from us in general as much as she can; Droplet scuttles off toward the waves; Pippy ducks back into the crashed starship before righting himself; Lone lifts herself, just for the most inkling of a moment, from my head, and she examines the bits of trees surrounding the baby island and she thinks about everything going on here and I swear it's like she can read the signs of danger in the air swarthy around us, and in the end she climbs herself back atop me, the crown to my kin—prince. Prince...

Dad...

Somehow, even though the moon's just a crescent sliver, I feel that its entire shadow has covered me, tip to tip. Almost like I'm lodged in the middle of it. Lone tries to convince me otherwise, but it doesn't really work, and then at some point her beak gets all runny and I have to learn how to help a bird creature—thing—get its snot from getting everywhere because I wasn't aware of this possibility until just now. I think she uses the distraction of mine to do something, but I'm not really sure what. My hands too busy waving at her and whacking at her and rubbing at her slick cyan bill to focus on much else. Oh my gosh, can I just say that this purple pest is disgusting? By the time I've actually focused on other things, I soon note that for some reason I'm very up high. Like, unnaturally high. Not taller than Pippy, who's in his full form of one hundred and fourteen whopping feet long, but still pretty high. On top of the old starship. My head raises and catches in the eyes of a breathless set of stars, complete with the mind's seeing moon at the tip of it.

I feel entranced, wrapped, wrapped, heck, with a bow on top, to the brim in this sight. Starlight paper drapes me into its collection as I stare, as Lone satisfactorily rolls her tiny self, expanding like Pippy's into her—still small—form as she snuggles beside me and nips at my toes. When I'm here, my gosh, there's absolutely no way I'm not completely bedazzled in orbs of rippling light. There's no way even a splotch of scaly black is left without coat, no stone left unturned. I could probably stick out my tongue and its pink surface would be dwarfed. Immediately. I have yet to open my mouth as my jaw begins to cave in awe and yet I still feel like it's already lighted.

Pruning very obviously at her giddiness, Lone squeaks, _HUH? HUH? How's THAT FOR YA?_ Star-dazed, I don't really have the capability to speak. My tongue lolls out. Called it.

She giggles quietly. Celebrating in some victory I haven't noticed. It's like a bowl swooping into me. On top of us all. Oddly, creepy as it is, I feel a new sort of shield like safety sleeping within me. Very bright, very pretty, very hard to take my eyes off of, like some clueless boys might say to their date. Not me though. Oh, gosh, not me. That's not me. Let me just make that clear right now. Lone squabbles again, adding, _Yeah! Totally! Pretending I know what I'm agreeing to? Nope!_

Very reassuring.

Not that it matters. She's kinda dumb and hilarious as it is. Totally clueless... Curiously my gaze freckles around and off the sky, and I watch the speckled sea roil and heave with each oncoming wave. They go on, and on, a blanket of aquamarine drenched in the shadow of night but highlighted by the monsoon of stars, never-ending explosions of splashes. Sands, easily shifted by the weight of a seismo careening only all over, like Lone, scatter and dive, eaten by the hungry waves, only to be spilled back into their rightful lands all over again. I wonder why they go through with it in some crazy cycle like that. I guess some things just do that, just round and round again. Not me. Please. _Yeah, not you._

 _Uh huh, you're very, very reliable, Lone. I trust you with all my heart and soul. Thank you very much for that response of yours._ She wriggles her nose at me and thumps her twisted little lilac tail against my leg a few times, but otherwise makes no comment. What a... Shut up; I treasure Lone a lot. Her reminder of Raptin swirls casually around with the rest of the stuff in my head, and I smile more than smirk thinking of him. He's a... a good guy, yeah? He's funny. But in this sarcastic, Raptin way that doesn't want to be funny. Whatsoever. Her cyan beak pecks my hand, as if to emphasize that memory of him. Aw, poor guy.

A gale bobbing in the wind, this breeze, like the gigantic ancient who made it pursed its lips and blew, smelling thick of salt and chills, bobs around us. I catch the faint whiff of some sorta shaving cream, but only the slightest hint of it. My head slams, cracks on its turning, to the side as I catch the hovering blob of water begin to glow. Just a section of it, just this gloppy piece, as it sculpts and lifts and unearths something brighter than, like, Wendy's ego, serving into the air. It lifts like a curtain, revealing peeled underneath something certainly glowing. It's not... part of the sky or anything. It's some sorta ethereal, otherworldly shimmer like that of a pirate ship living deep under the sea, years and years and years old.

Or perhaps, just... just guessing, maybe in fact the _owner_ of this pirate ship? Just... just a guess. Totally not happening. That guy, his beard ceremonially secured with a salmon ribbon, pink like the sunrise, dangling like a fish's tail—like Droplet's tail—the substance shimmers, and the pirate blinks. With his one eye, that is. One of them's sorta covered by a patch. Not sure how that works, since he's sort of a ghost, but I guess it does like his ribbon. Some things just stay. His key pieces, or whatever.

Okay, why the heck is he here? Lone's tiny hands try to grab at me but I swat back and she squeals and I dart off before she can try anything. _Kak kak kak kak kak kak kak..._

Trilling, her body springs along behind me, her footprints louder and stronger than mine. Like they're about to cave into the starship. Like she's gonna break it and fall into its depths. A strange squeak files out of the back of my throat as I launch back and plop her into my arms and hold her like she's a domesticated vivosaur who lives in my man purse as I hobble like an elder for the light show below, bobbling happily in the watery flow. Lone shivers around in my arms a few times, like she wants me to stop holding her so tightly, but now I'm hallucinating about her death and I think I'm not letting go for another three months.

Upon reaching the dunes, I kick my feet and tear their tiny towers of terrors-trying-to-scare full of wonder in some form of celebration. Lone demands I release her. I say no. She pecks me. I say no again. She pecks me again. I cry. She shuts up. Her tiny tongue licks away at the wounds. And silently, through it all, staring mystically at the mystic light show, most importantly: we wait. She settles comfortably in my tight grip. My feet wriggle in the powdery sand below. Sometimes if I dig deep enough I'll find pockets of warmth stored there from the day.

Somewhere farther off in the distance, a large splash expands in the air. Someone must've convinced Pippy to go swimming. Probably his, uh... uh... g-girlfriend. Oh my gosh. I'm going to cry. Again. I can hardly believe it... y-y'know, it's just one of those things. As my gaze snaps back around, I realize my freaking short change in attention gave the thing just enough time to escape down the small splotch of land that's not forest or starship but isn't quite water. Along that short sandbar encircling the island like a gold ring walks, well, "walks" the gooey body of a ghost I... recognize. Really well; I recognize him really well, for that matter. How fun.

Steadily I traipse toward him. Lone quakes in my arms, probably because I'm shaking too much to hold her right. For some reason, this time around she doesn't squawk. Stone silent. Her orbs, though, they're thick of light; cyan dots wrapping around the horizon and back. Full of some insane level of energy I can't quite comprehend. She's let me borrow it, once or twice, when I'm really scared. So that I can run. Cuz I'd rather flight than, um, fight. It's a lot. A lot of energy. It's scary how much untapped power she has inside of her. She's too much.

Her little body shakes in my unstable arms as I chase after the ghost. My soft, spiny spikes of hair, thick black and a soft streak of orange, go flying in the air with me. Swishing, my tail follows rapidly, happily. Even now I'm still not used to it. Every bit helps, I guess. Lone's tail goes _thum-thum-thum-thum_ against my chest of silvery armor. She squalls, tossing her head back, which, _thoom_ , hits over my heart. When I reach him, his leisure stroll ends for a heartbeat until it continues along again. Even though he hears me panting and grumbling to myself, he just casually goes right along ahead. Ugh, I hate you. I chase further and stamp myself through, then in front of him, right where his one ghostly eye can see me.

Having better manners than other pirates, dead or otherwise, Woolbeard snorts as he halts. His half-baked arms fold over themselves, over his bushy beard. The tail of a beard ribbon flickers far below, near where his body ends. I'm never going to know what his feet look like; it's almost a really depressing thought, when I linger on it, just like that. He's huge, and swooning, and white, outlined against the dark horizon, sucking it all in. Kinda hard to look away.

"WOOOoolly woo, blaaaast m'beard, it's Dino. WooooOOooo, woo woo," he mumbles off; it's almost like he doesn't like me here. An awkward sense of being out of place plucks at my heart as I whistle awkwardly and abruptly stop. His single penetrating eye gouges straight through me, like I'm the ghost. "Whoooooat are yooouuuu doing here now? Can't a ghostly Woolbeard take his walks in peace these days? I swear, everything's goin' aaall out right now. Urgh," he harrumphs loudly, all the weight he doesn't have shifting to one side.

I blink. "Uuhhhhh... huh..? Um." Oh boy. "I... dunno what you're talking about? Can't you always take your walks in... peace? I mean, I know you're always with McJunker and everything, or Holt since he's always following McJunker around, but, like, you're friends or whatever with him. Best friends. That. So why are you... I mean, you get all the free time you need..?" Lone sneezes in my arms. It's sticky again.

Groan. His one eye, expressive enough for three, rolls up toward the blackened heavens. "Yeah, whooooooooOOOOoOOoootever! Saaaay that! GoooOOOOoo on! Not like yoooooOOOoOOoOooouu'd understand what an ancient does to the world!"

"What."

Okay, now I'm... lost. My heart hits heavy in its cage of bone, balancing very delicately on pieces of me. I can feel its pumping concentration thick inside of me. It thumps its blood enough for my ears to drown in its sound. I struggle not to go red in the face as I try for an awkward smile that reaches almost to my cheeks. "Haa..." Awkwardly I wait.

"Ancients! Geez! WoooOOOOO! Kids these daaaays!"

"I-I know I-I'm young and stuff but, um um, help? Th-that's what kids ask their W-Woolbeard elders?" Call me pathetic but I want Jkonna to hide behind.

His fluffy bounds of arms form and cross over on his hips. His mouth slits open as he grunts. "WoooOOOolbeard elders... hrrr, I could get used to that. Buh, whatever! I can' sleep with all the racket they're makin' these days! Woooooo-OOOOooOOooooh! They're wakin' an' clankin' an' I thought that frigi Thomas guy was loud when he was still in m'bay! Boy, you ain't got no clue 'bout it!" The air begins to furiously smell of sea salt.

Coughing, I back away some. This guy isn't very fun to mess with when he's angry. He's like a tightly-knit ball of destruction that you can't even touch when he loses his... cool. Ugh, darn it, this is the worst time, but I thought I had some ocean pun to substitute in that part. Lone clucks her nasaur tongue, knowing very well just how awful I am, but I still don't excuse it and I can't help but wonder. Slowly, surely, seeming to end as soon as it's come, his anger billows and blows from him. At least for a moment.

It's very awkward when the scary ghost pirate keeps threatening you. Dad would be good at, like, calming him. He's pretty great at pacifying... things. When he's not upset himself. Which... usually doesn't happen, unless I... like... died. Ha. In his rattly ghost voice, Woolbeard raises his glowy eye and mutters, "Ya DinoooOOoooo kiiiiid, ya got tons 'n tons of spunk." He spits the word. I suddenly feel like the worst person in the entire world. "The seas, oh, the seas are sooooOOOOoooOooOooo looOOooooud right now. Feels like some black magic whatever warlock legendary monster thingy went and stirred soooOOOooome pot and wooOooOooOOOOOOoooke them all up. Sure don' like it. Suuuuuuure don' like it. But it ain't like I can dooooOooOOOOOo much about it, even if I was still alive an' kickin'. Sure, I'm from the viiiiIIiiiolent times of the world, but I was one of the most gentlemanly of the gentlemen! Of the women!" Lone hisses at this. I feel all the more violated until I realize she's thinking of Harei.

"HAAAaaAaaaaaa..." He slumps and falls into a _pouf_ of sand that goes through him. It's soundless. I try to be just as stealthy as the ghost man, only my bum slips from my legs and I land and sand goes everywhere. Up my nose. Through my mouth. On my tongue. In my eyes. Through my... _Pah!_ Sneezing. Two more sneezes follow up. It's through teary eyes that I hesitantly peer for the glowing nexus in front of us. The stars, the seas, the shore, the sliver of moon smiling down on us. Lone hisses at that, too.

Woolbeard's eyes crawl back for me; we meet in the middle, sorta. I'm struck with a question, out of the starlit night. Out of nowhere. "Hey Woolbeard? How'd you take my vivosaurs, back when you lost your beard ribbon? Like..."

He guffaws, waving a mitten-like hand toward me. I stare as it bubbles around the place, jaw hanging. I try not to drool. It's harder than I'd like. "OooooOOOoooh, m'boy, chiiiild's play! As a ghost, I get loooooOOOOOOoots of manipulation over the air! Lotsa things, really! Like I can do this!" A hand slaps into the sand; out of nowhere, a perfect, miniature, seashell-stubbed sandcastle piles through the soil. "Aaaaannd this!" He slaps again; tiny models of me and Raptin and my dad form. I'm gonna die.

We watch, quietly. Whether because he's attached to it or they feel like being nice, water doesn't corrupt any of his sculpture. It doesn't even reach to my toes. Heck, I start trying to reach for water, just to make the wet, gloppy sand I'm sitting on give me what I asked for: and but no luck. In the midst of my arms, Lone grows warmer.

I glance back at the castle, at my... family. He has enough heart not to make... three females of any sort, only, our eyes trailing, soon after, other models begin to form. Sifting with the sand under the ground and sticking up like sticks in the mud, a frizzy-haired Diggins with his glasses hardly catching his nose, Rosie and her bobbing twin tails of hair, McJunker's chubby self, the moels and their goggles, Nick Nack's arms wrapped around a blushing—blushing—Bea, the child Clem with his jacket and signatures edged into it. A dirty-faced girl, her hair lingering down past her feet. Heart in my throat. Lone pops from my grip, but I hardly pay her much attention.

"They good people, ain't they?" he whispers softly. He's almost literally a breeze in the wind. He's much less person than ghost, than some spot of what once was. "All the fellows... all these fellows... this island that we're full oooof. Ehh? Y'know them... y'know them... woooohh..." He sounds tired. And older than I thought he was. I mean, not counting the whole ghost thing. Gently his hand scoops over the figure of McJunker he can't quite touch. "I've decided I'll let meself stop ghostin' around when he grows too old... so we'll leave this world... heh, togethe'. I'll be nice... when it comes.. but it ain't cooooOOOooome yet.

"Ain't it nice, though, to think about those days..."

As I sit here, next to a ghost and his creations, a smaller version of our world at large, these distant... these rumblings, like, they're like volcanoes but they're not, these... _rumblings..._ seem to gouge through the air. I whip my head aside but don't really catch much. Only a floating fin... distantly diving... too far to catch much of a sign of things. It's also really... wobbly, like some hologram, heh, like the dinaurian holograms Diggins and Jkonna and "I" made for ourselves when we infiltrated and we all learned I actually was one of them. Only this fin... it's... it's ominous, in a way. It's not Droplet, either: not a krona; not a futabi; not a shoni; especially not Lone. It's... creepy.

Cawing, Lone draws my attention from all creepy fins. _YEAAHHHHHHH!_ She lifts her tiny toes and squashes all of Woolbeard's creations. Her beak stuffs of snow as she bites off the heads and bums of our friends, stabbing them into smithereens giddily like the weirdo nasaur she is. For half a second, I can't help but laugh.

Until... _LONE! YOU'RE SO FREAKING RUDE!_

Woolbeard just chuckles. I keep trying to, like, scold her, and of course it fails, but whatever, I'm trying. It's the thought that counts, and all that.

Eventually, feeling like one of those really nosy house guests, I pull my freakish nasaur out of the earth and leave the ghost man. Calling soon provides me with my homey group of four, all the girls and me—to which Pippy squeaks—they all shrinking to their tiny sizes that allow Travers not to freak out when we enter as one body. He'd waited the entire time; even with his head resting against the steering wheel of his shiny, shiny boat, half asleep already until I'd stirred him again: until the very end, he waited anyways. The blonde guy and his tropical clothes go slipping around him as he flaps and turns around. His floppy hat bends with his salute. To celebrate the occasion, his boat's horn splits through the middle of the night. We all pretend we didn't wake up a bunch of people like poor Mr. Richmond. Uh. I mean. He's a grandpa. He's super old... and, uh, old guys probably need a lot of sleep..? Honestly I feel like he's still up as it is right now. Because he's Mr. Richmond.

Soft whispers of night follow around me, tying through me, little knots of promises that dangle in the sky like the stars. My head lolls on its own, so at first I try to fix it n place with a rough, sandy, scaly hand, only for it to spill out and land on the edge of the boat. I suppose Travers won't kill me for getting a sandy and somewhat oily forehead over one speck of his boat. He's gonna like power-wash it whether I rest here or not. So I do. Thankfully, he doesn't bother asking away like he usually does, and the only sound cutting through the night is the humming of his sleek vessel as it controls the waters freely. Its motions simple, its movements well coordinated... I could just fall asleep right here and be fine.

Only, she'd wake up and I wouldn't be by her. Her flaming hair would cascade around her in a fiery fit as she bolted in search of me. I don't... wanna put her through that.

Clouds pass by overhead. They're obscured by the night and the stars, but that doesn't mean they're not there. I wonder. I think about my friends and all the people on this island: even Clem, who, let's face it, I can't stand. That little boy has all those signatures of famous fighters on his red jacket, written in by ink that won't ever leave it—my freaking name included. He's around the age of the sweet children like Breckan and Robbie, and that just makes it even worse. They must be sleeping right now. I hope we didn't wake them up. They're too cute for that.

Jkonna, when we were in the Complex, she met O'Mel. He's small like them. I wonder if he has any vivaldi friends. Or dinaurian friends, for that matter. Though I guess there aren't very, uh, many dinaurian kids left.

Staring off into the horizon, I wonder these things. In the back of my head cries that rumbling. Blinks that fin. The one that shimmered in and out and in on me. The one that, somewhere, I feel like completes a puzzle in the back of my head. But I... I don't understand it yet. I feel like I will soon. Woolbeard got so unsettled earlier... before the sandcastle... and those fantastic figurines. It was all dark... and those shakings... that shaking... down deep in... deep in the earth... he said waking up... he said his bay... things waking up in his bay...

Too, I think of Jkonna: of the words wet on her lips when I found her again. The thought of it bites into my lip and suffers around me, my body cramping into a cringe at the thought of it. She was freaking out. She was freaking out...

As I lull in and out of sleep, I swear I hear a voice that I haven't heard all night, one so close to me I should've listened to it more, but so far that it... never seems to be with me... never seems to... be a part of me... I sway with the waves. It feels like I almost fall in, a few times. Hmm...

Pouting, Lone's body curls up into a tight ball beside me.

 **:3 I really enjoyed Lone's scenes in the chapter. Like, way more than I should've. Ahaha. If you're the kinda person to wanna randomly look over them (I dunno xD) you might notice something in particular about her reactions throughout the chapter...**

 **Welp. In two chapters, the climax area will really take off!**


	27. Da: Fabrics and Fighting

**Rupert: … -holds her even closer-**

 **Dina: -face is blushing mess-**

 **Todd: HEY GUYS**

 **Rupert: -GLARES AT HIM-**

 **Todd: GUESS WHO'S FINALLY BAAAACCK? -tosses his head into Dina's face-**

 **Rupert: -GLARES HIM OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH-**

 **Me: owo what have I created**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 27: Fabrics and Fighting

 _Dina_

Nerves align inside of me, to a level so very deep within me, one so securely connected into my heart that I cannot breathe without... feeling it. Todd... Todd... we will see him soon. We will see him soon, and we will see Pauleen, too, and we will see the residents of Nomadistan. Our friends. Friends... Such a strange trill fills my soul at the thought of this. It... it... it is so e-exciting... I am sorry, but I am so filled of this thought, this joy to see those who I have come connected with. I cannot help but bounce, once or twice, in place. Rupert and his gentle, sunny orbs, trail me as I move. His lips, just the slightest, seem to... turn in less than an emotionless, albeit sweet, gesture.

Nyra, inside of me, displays a similarly elated squeal. _Oh, dear oh dear oh deaaaaarrr! Diinaaaa! I can hardly believe it! Ahaaa... can't you? Eheh, I know I can't! Oh... joy. It similarly reminds me of that moment when you'd been swallowed up by the Bonehemoth, with Trikko and Reyna and Aladee, and you were coughed up onto a distant island, and Torn and I—we fooouuund yoooouuuu! Ahhh, I apologize, but truly, I can't wait, Dina! Todd! Oh, it's been soooo loooooong!_ Her feathered body stretches and shivers in pent-up giddiness. It causes a quirk of a grin to catch across my lips. Amethyst eyes, struggling to catch up, watch as her form, smaller as of now, jumps about the room we have entered. Her green-scaled body, doused in white down, cascades through windows and doorways alike as she squeals.

Friends mean a great deal to her. My eyes eventually find their way winding, and training, upon the ground, as my face flushes accordingly. In a voice I try to be just quiet enough for me to hear, worried about disturbing others, I giggle. His hand gently becomes entwined, tangled with mine, b-because of course he heard it. I wince as, in a great fire of laughter, blue and jokingly sinister Torn erupts: _DAAMMMIIIIIIIIIT, DIIIINAAAAA!_ He calms. Somewhat. _Whyyy the fuck do you haaaave to have Ruupyyy? And whyy the fuuuuck did they let you have the same rooms agaaaaaiiiiiin? Just like that shitty Caliosteo Cup. How fucking... ughhh._

Nyra, squeaking, rejoins his medal with hers and pouts dastardly toward his blued muzzle.

And he in turn prunes angrily as Rupert murmurs, _Perhaps the first was by pure fate, or luck, but... if one does not wish to ever leave another, then why should they?_

It does not help douse his temper. Not that I... um... expected it to. Torn will never truly accept any... feelings one may have... um, f-for me, or me f-for them. If he did... not feel this way about me... I-I am sure Torn would see fit that he was chased off, perhaps, far, far away from me. He does not want others to touch me, in any way, and it is a struggle, as it forever shall be, to see Rupert with me. In one way or another, if he was to meet my family, to some degree perhaps he would come to terms with them—like Joe—but on others he may never give me up to anyone, anything. I can accept this. He is... my dimetro, after all. My luxurious, glittering, deep and dark blue dimetro, his grape eyes agape in mystery. A fiery fellow. One I hold dear to me.

At this, my tricera snorts. His three-horned face leans upwards from his perch on a stray and fluffy carpet. _Yes, of course. Always, always expect Torn to be the melodramatic pain he... er... that he..._ A grunt. _Ugh, I hate this sentimentality between us. My logic has been spoiled by it. I love him too much now to find any sort of comfort through insult, seeming that now my only way of peace is to 'be with him.' Ughhhhhh. Dina, I wish it was any better with you, but it seems you're the same._

 _Ha!_ Torn cackles. _Take that, bitch! Uh!_ He panics soon after. _Dammit, I don't wanna call you a bitch anymore! I-I'm sorry, Trikko!_

 _Apology... er... um... accepted._

They are quite touching. Their friendship makes my heart so... warm.

 _YOU DIDN'T TELL NYRA I HAVE A CRUSH ON HER, RIGHT?_

 _S-SOMEONE HAS A CRUSH ON ME?_

Two heads of such closeness swivel at my skylarking fellow and screech: _NO!_

And soon, a link to their chain, Trikko joins Nyra and Torn in their medals.

Ah... how I hold them s-so dear to me... my sweet vivosaurs... How I... How I...

Trees in the wind, I dizzily smile as I watch them rumble on in their place, the limb-like arms of a boy whose strength far surpasses my not only weakened but simply smaller state which pillows and hold me, as I sway, dizzy. Not... strong enough to lift myself on my own. Especially not... not now. Not now at all. My head rests against him as I grit my teeth and struggle not to cry or show the emotions riding within me, without me, only he knows, whether I show it or not he knows, and he is there. Always is he there. Rupert... o-oh, Rupert... He whispers my name; it passes in the breeze, but it rings on forever, a song inside of me. My fitful grasp strengthens as much as it can around him. I feel guilty to be weak... but thankful. So very thankful. For him...

Cautious, his motions pull me, as if we are strung together, until his fingers cover mine and he is in front of me, I in front of him. His orbs glow softly. It is comforting, even just a little, to see his feelings shine into me. "Dina... I understand it is hard. I understand you are... unstable, in this situation. If you would wish to..." He draws off. Gently... gently...

"U-u-um, please do not worry about it," I mumble, "it is... n-no such conflict or... or anything, Rupert... P-please do not worry about it..."

He allows me to finish before the look in his gaze hardens upon me. "Never would I dream of that. Dina... I care for you. Never will I cease... so don't forget. Do not... forget." His hands, warm and wrapped protectively around mine, give my smaller form a little squeeze as his finishes. His orbs, so full and shining, two perfect moons held and suspended within him, his worries and fears and f-feelings for me gliding upon their surface as he allows me to see it, they hold me. My own, I wonder, must seem to pall in... comparison to his, as they, so bright and endearing, surely... outshine my amethyst droplets. Face a little flustered, the ground whisks into my sight. Tiled, elegantly tiled, beige and brown checkers. They spread apart weakly from my gaze in shards.

Stuttering, I squeak weakly, "Todd... T-Todd is nearby... He will sh-show soon and I can see him..."

"Yes..." He quickly and easily traipses into the good. Into how... we are here, now. In the Nomadistan kingdom, turning out to be almost entirely made up of a single castle built unto many, many undulating chambers that hold all sorts of nomadistinians and others: not simply the royals. They an uplifting sort of soul. Always surrounded and circled by one another. Perhaps I am not like them—not even mammalian, it seems I am scaled—but still, I wish to... follow Rupert around as much as I can, and hold his hand and hang onto him as much as I am allowed to. It is... scary for me to think of not... being near him.

Trikko snorts rather cheerfully. His deep, thick, throaty murmur floats into my mind, like a wave awash upon the shore, one that would be my own misshapen thoughts. _Goodness, Dina. It's not like you're ever forced to be away or anything. It's elementary here that... like... do what you want! Be where you want! Don't freak out so much; you're making me nervous. Although I suppose you're always nervous as it is._

 _Fucking shut up, Trikko!_ hisses his best friend. _She has a right to be terrified! You know what kinda hell she's been through as I have told you! Dammit! Let me protect—_

Aladee and his husky squeal forces all other voices to back down. _GUUUYYYYYYSSSS! DIN-DIN IS NIIICE AND SO IS RUPYKINS!_ His tiny brown body, flocked in a layer of white hair trailing him in curling locks, shoots up and down. Emphasis proceeds. Pouting, the miniature raja glares sharply at the purple gaze of Torn before shooting into and past the horns on the face of my tricera, deep into his cyan eyes. My face simply reddens; I can only look away, only to find myself within the warmth and safety of Rupert... y-yet again...

Beside her tiny sidekick, Reyna scoffs. Boulder-black nostrils flare; _I wouldn't call Rupert 'nice,' Aladee. He's only nice around Dina, and occasionally nuisances like us. Now, I wouldn't say he doesn't have the capability to be annoyingly kind, but he certainly isn't right now. He does have that father of his... Ugh, what is it with you people and your parents? Dina, don't care so much about forgotten family. Rupert, stop moping. All of you... ugghhhhh._

Torn lolls his forked tongue and sharply glares. _Fuck you, Reyna._

 _Oh, how kind._ She sticks out her own stubble of a tongue back toward him.

With his arms safely held around me, himself safely secured beside me, Rupert steps on hard-soled boots carved elaborately in patterns toward the entrance of our chamber. I glance as we move: windows of stained glass shimmer from walls; wallpaper stamped in tulips coats an outer ring of the main room and the two side ones, painted in yolk orange. Chairs, cushions thick and puffy, float amok in this area. The single bed is in one of... I-I believe the room to the right—I cannot recall as of now. H-how embarrassing. This humble sitting area seats us to tables and bookshelves in far corners. In a far more ornate fashion than I could dare handle, our room feels oddly... warm. Homey. Like... honey. Yes... Perhaps it is not all that beckoning, but I almost... feel this strangely royal chamber call to me. Perhaps I am simply used to thicker-soled backgrounds of areas.

The fingers wrapped around one of my small arms squeeze tightly when a rapid _rap-rap-rap-rap!_ echoes and assaults the air. Squeaking, I stutter back; and bump into Rupert; and he must steady himself as he would rather run through a slick corridor only decked in socks than allow Todd to see him in any unrepresentable condition. He is... um... s-silly like that... Giggling, I fall back again as the door slams inward, the tan fingers of a desperate foster brother incoming. Soon, an ethereal fluffiness spills into the chamber. It is green.

Green fabric. Green dress. Green like emeralds were sown into silk and slipped into fine fabrics, these pressed into exactly what Todd deserves when it comes to he and his dresses. The usual bobbling, beige cap explodes over his curls. His gloved hands—like that of a p-princess; h-he is Todd—grasp for his hem as he raises chocolate eyes and grins in a childish manner. His freckles explode across his tan face. He looks... so lively, now. Moving so... freely, now. Rupert slides a hand toward my own. I struggle to breathe.

It is hard, when I recall what happened to Todd... prior. Before Zongazonga was expelled from Joe, we had to find and receive the Caliosteo pipsqueak, bones made from an ancient into a pickaxe used specifically to start such expelling. And once we did reach Joe... well, um, Todd was there as well and Todd was possessed by black magics of Zongazonga and his entity and Todd and his hands, his hands were around my neck and I was holding the pipsqueak and I was flailing and I could hardly breathe and—

He looks... so lively, now... Moving so... freely, now... So much b-better... So thus the... nomadistinian palace did help with his healing. He must be happy, too, now that he has his dresses via Pauleen. I do faintly recall her coming onto the plane with us.

Struggling underneath his thick, beige cap, Todd presses a bright smile through his lips. "Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyy!" An excited wave seizes one of his hands from the dress. Just a margin taller than my own short self, his fingers pat upon my orange hair and his grin only widens as he and his dress envelop me. I do not see, only more feel, the icy glaze of a glare that slides past my shoulder and into the brown-eyed gaze of my foster brother. "Rupert, my maaaan! Ruuuupyyyyyyy!"

"Todd." That is all. His hand is warm on my shoulder. Coated in a black glove, fingerless, I feel his warmth within it, pulsating and filling me from just one point. It is all I need for that feeling to expand and grow throughout me. Todd one one side, Rupert the other: I cannot help it; I giggle.

The reaction my foster brother garners shrieks through my ears: "RUUUUPPYYYYY! DIDJA HEAR THAT? SHE GIGGLED! SHE GIGGLED! WE DID IT, MAN!" My eyes water; still, just the slightest, I bite my lip and I giggle. In the toasty depths of my heart, Torn does scream at me—he dislikes vivaldi, mostly Rupert, but truly all vivaldi—only it is hard to decipher his anger as I simmer in this tepid sense that only further encircles and ties me. Purple eyes watch as Todd lowers his face until we are close enough to bump noses. His warm breath cascades upon me in laughter; he smells faintly of chocolate chip cookies. Sugar...

My head lolls. I try to not keep it t-too slippery in my own grip. Must... m-must focus... I-it is hard to when one does not exactly contain much sleep, b-but I must because if I let myself sleep, th-then bad things will happen, and th-the nightmares are scary... and even when I do have them it is not as if suddenly now it is okay and I can find rest in the nook of the nightmare. N-n-no... I wi-will be ta-taken over by who causes th-these things... a-and there is nothing we c-can do about it... B-but maybe then I will feel better... a-and I will sleep okay... maybe...

"C'mon, c'mon, Pauleenie's waiting! Sort of!" Todd tugs on me. Rupert follows simply. In the very corner of my sight I can distinguish betwixt his strands of soft, white hair the scorn that brushes over his features, that he would rather I did not roam in these territories: but it ultimately loses to the thought of my... friends. Ah... I-I am thankful for him. Even if I do listen under others and am strung to them as well, he... stays with me. He is always with me.

Excitement charges and warms me as it travels through Todd, his arm, his hands, his fingers that string me tightly alongside him. Rupert, his golden orbs soft like that of the sun yet always watchful upon me, slowly moves behind the rigid pace my foster brother takes the two of us. His dresses billow as I struggle not to trip over them. With myself finding more ease not to usually pertain to wearing soft fabrics of clothing, I can easier maneuver myself and not become further entangled with him; still my eyes travel to my toes and I wince as I watch them scramble for recognition. The bell-like laughter streaming from the lips of the boy in front of me keeps me going on. We stream out the door, through a hallway, up a flight of stairs or maybe two, down another hallway, and nearly into the idle chair standing in place on carpet-over-tile. Like a soldier, it guards and merits the occupant of the oak handle to the right of it.

Todd giggles as he bounds in place, to the left, and right, and left, on his slippered feet. I glance curiously; the thread to have spun them together seems light, yet durable, soft and cozy, a breath of light, gentle aquamarine from the sunrise caught and threaded and formed into feet fit for a boy whose shoe size is larger than his manliness. I love him like that. I-I love who he is... Todd... He... he is like a brother, a real one. Perhaps he is not strong, a guardian to my weaker self, but he giggles and smiles and he spins, and he loves flouncy materials to dance in. Excitedly, as he moves, he deposits a fresh green disc into the air, which expands and catches to the very cusp where chair meets air into the grumpy head of a red-horned vivosaur. Like roses. The thorns, red like roses, scatter across her body, sharp yet beautiful yet dangerous.

Eyes slinking into mine, Flower snorts rather brusquely. Her dull, cloudy pink orbs tense. _Do not give me that look._ Squeaking, I try to ask her wha— _That one!_ That _one! The one you're using right now! You make yourself look so prim and happy and ready to start the day or whatever: ulgh, it more disgusts than intrigues me. I swear, if Todd tries to use you too to force me into some dress: first off, I'm a spiked creature and spikes break things; and second off, I won't wear it. I'll refuse in all ways possible._

 _Oh, gosh, not you again,_ sneers Trikko. His further horned face of three pearl protrusions, one his muzzle and the other two the top edges of his head, by his ears, turns upward. His cyan-and-red composure darkens. He tenses his own stout body as he sourly faces the goyle, soon coming out of his own medal of ocean to further look. _You're not very kind. It's quite obvious. But although I don't know many extremely kind people as it is, I don't know many like you who bathe in your unruliness. My_ goodness _, at least be respectful to someone like Dina._ He sits back upon his soft haunches after his statement as my face expresses in petals of red.

 _Well you're annoying,_ responds Flower. Her bluish body sprinkles in small, undulating bits of scaly light. She tends to flick at these bits of her and bite at them, as if to tear off this piece of her existence. She does not cower in the light—far too proud to do that—but holds her head high and glares it down, demanding it does not shower her.

Trikko seems amused by this as well. He quarrels gently for a moment with the thorny female, lamenting in the end. _These are full of facts, but I must ask: if you're not bathed in light, you'll be crawling in darkness. Is this what you seek?_

 _No, stupid! I'd rather be a nice, unsparkly gray. Is that sooooooo much to ask for?_

His large face deadpans. His stout tone roughly harrumphs. _You need both to be gray. You can't be both without both._

She growls in return. _Well certainly you understand my true meaning! Don't you, dumb Trikko?_

 _I am not dumb; I have logic and the facts! Oh, these facts that fill me! I know what I'm talking about, imprudent grape!_ She is more a prune than a grape, I would think by color and her somewhat-squashed figure, but as you wish, Trikko. _Dina, you know I listen to the facts alone, don't you? My own evidence?_ I struggle to nod.

Oddly, it is in this moment that a stray memory of his peels off his mind and floats along mine. One that includes his stout—cyan and red, so recent—self, stuffed into a fluffy, white carpeting, by the side of another spiny creature. Only she is a royal blue tinged in spots and shadows of purple, of amethyst, and her name is Mistress. Mapo queen. He seems to be spluttering about something he cannot find "perfect" as "nothing" is "perfect," and because of this, Mistress finds him "horrible." Suddenly I am stricken with the feeling that I have lied.

Todd, having turned, stares back at me. His brown eyes widen: chocolate cookies being almost dipped in milk, only to halt, stutter, and fall back into the mixture. "Uhhh, Dina? Why's your face so pale? Ohhh, oh gosh! Don't tell me that thing Rupert said, about you not feeling good: it's not _true_ , is it? Like, I thought he was lying to keep you all to himself!"

"I-I think I lied to Trikko!" I hopelessly squeak.

His mouth begins to form—only to falter and split in a grin. "What the heeecccck?" His mouth splits further as bursts of giggles work their way through him. His tanned face streaks in laughter, his head tossed back, his poor, forgotten, beige cap stricken off his head and tumbled to the carpet floor. It flutters to a standstill by the entrance of the chamber we almost managed to enter. In the ornate yet welcoming setting, set gently in muses of brown, my eyes wander, and I feel weak on the inside. Todd continues on: "Oh my gosh, Dina. If you lied to Trikko, then... what?! I mean, man, he's all about facts or whatever the heck it was, so I'm not sure how that works. He's probably mad at Flower or something. Darn it! I thought the two of them got along!"

A pair of heads thus turns to face him. One or the other mutters in their low, guttural lure, _Since when?_

Faintly do I recall, at the dawn of the Caliosteo Cup of long ago, before I knew Rupert all so well and truly it was Todd alone and myself, alongside the beautiful likes of Torn and Trikko, and his Flower and Gren—a thick and kind, green-spine stego—who faced the world alone, and yet together. Only for an unfortunate, unknown reason we were pitted against each other at just the beginning of the Caliosteo Cup and we had to fight our two-on-two and I could have sworn that I had lost, I-I thought I lost, but Joe—no, Zongazonga inside of the body of Joe—had said that I had not lost. So it... um... w-would seem. Torn and Gren retired early; Flower and Trikko dominated the scene. Both required to concoct their insults to one another. It was... silly, in a way. Very... silly.

I smile beside myself. Todd yanks for my hand, and we both giggle, very softly, in the remembrance and the cherishing. He begins to traipse, but I squeak and lurch back, head over my shoulder, waves of orange-and-silvery hair whistling by my face as I search and search and wait and my heart trembles until glowing eyes and white hair accompanied by the pale figure in red meets my sight. Then it is okay for him to pull me into his room, the one he most surely smuggled Pauleen into instead of letting her live in her allotted chamber.

As we step in, again am I struck by the soundness of the gallant structure. The shimmering and shining upon the walls, the curtains of great detail and luster flitting softly in a light breeze by their window. Pillows and frivolous, fluffy things strewn about, so that without thinking, my feet clumsily leave prints on most. Especially the dresses. A monsoon of dresses has wrecked the brown and lush scenery with random bits of rainbow pastel everywhere. On the lamp by the wall. Half-into the dresser beneath the lamp. Below, like crawling tails, the bed. On top of the bed. Above the bed. Around the bed. Substituted for the discarded pillows. Dresses, dresses, dresses galore. Casually, he elbows me, and again we break out in tiny fits. The ribbons dressing his figure tie into me and fill me with this laughter.

Todd... I care very much about him... H-how happy I am that he has recovered s-so well... After everything I... everything that... everything that I...

His chest struck in bone. Bone in my fingers. Fingers seamlessly clutching my shaking hands. The pipsqueak, they called it. His hands were on my throat. I could not... I could not... O-oh, Todd... I am... I am...

When I begin to fall, his arms quickly follow me. Still a smile shines just over the edges of the curves in his face, like it is hiding, about ready to show again. Freckles, like stars, spangle his cheeks and cheerfully down him in spots like chocolate chips. And he smiles. Still, he smiles. I begin to try to explain it to him, pulling and peeling words from my mouth that are feeble and quaky and wish to not hang around, only he raises a hand, and he is smiling to brightly it is hard to look away.

"Diiiinaa?" Softly, he calls. "Diiinaa? Heehee. It's okay. It's okay, Dina. Stuff happened, and I wasn't in control, and I wasn't really giving you the option to do anything other than what you did. It's not... you don't like hurting others. Especially not... well, Rupy, or me, or Pauleenie or Joe or... or Torn." It continues. His smile. Curls draw in soft, childish loops around his eyes. Thick, soupy swirls of sweet chocolate. "You get hurt even if you do end up hurting someone. But, uhhh... eheh." His laughter freckles my own face of scales. "Try to let go of that feeling. Cuz I'm super duper better better now. I'd better say it now or you'll find out later and start like crying or something—there is a scar, but it doesn't hurt. Heck, it just... reminds me of all the fun we've had."

I begin to start; but he smiles, and smiles, and he smiles. My head rests on soft carpet—no, these are dresses too—which he has used to cover as much tile as he can, legs splayed out in front of me. He sits, legs folded over, smiling, just above me. Behind me. His face leans down upon me, and when he laughs, I cannot help but mirror him. Gently. "Okay, Sissy?"

Somewhere far off, I can detect the gentle creaking of the door in the background. Todd chokes on his laughter to keep himself unheard as he leans uncharacteristically close toward me and I can feel his breath and I can smell him and he is so close our noses touch. It is a soft scent, like fabric soaking in the sun on a warm, sugary day.

The door is forcefully slammed shut as the quick succession of feet trawls upon the carpet and one face replaces the giggling ball of another who tumbles away. His orbs fill me; my face flushes. I squeak for a moment, but as his face pinches into a small, apologetic moue, he murmurs, "I quite dislike Todd." His own warmth fills me as he moves himself closer to me, effectively eradicating all prior image of Todd in such horizon. My hands fold toward him, and quickly he takes mine. While they are only slightly larger, this fills me, and this brings a blissful heat to center deep within me. His bangs of snow brush upon me as he whispers, "I apologize for interruption; though truly, Dina... you mean very... much to me, and you have no reason to feel worry or shame." Glowing orbs hold me as I cannot help but smile up toward him; and his eyes lighten evermore. "Dina..."

"SO!" We start. I flinching and blushing and squeaking much more emotionally than him, to be left to drown in this feeling if he were not holding so closely to me. "Rupy! Rupy! I gotta know, I gotta know, did I, in any way at all, convince you that I was gonna kiss your Din-Din? Hmmmm?"

As he bursts again into giggles, Rupert gently lifts me into a better sitting position, to where I lean toward him until Todd, glaring through his curls teasingly, pulls me back his way. I squeak softly, but he continues, and Rupert sends a true glare toward him. "No. I did not. You are quite the fool, Todd." His gaze then turns toward me. It stays there. But so do I watch him...

"Daaaarrrrrnnn," he sighs, "I just kinda knew that it wouldn't work, but it's still fun, right? And HEY! Rupykins, I am noooot a fool. I am lovable! I am the most lovable person around! Everyone loves me! Even Pauleen!"

A groan resurrects from the lump in the bed I had not noticed until now. "If you're all gonna be so diga-dam—dang loud I guess I just _won't_ sleep."

She snores from her place moments after we silence.

As the moments tick and tick in my head, my heart begins painfully and fearfully thumping within me. I-I guess now I know where Pauleen is... Still my gaze holds tight upon the bed just behind me, crafted gently of stone and mud and held, entwined nicely together into a bow-like fold in the middle. The mattress, soft and springy, must be made from doglish hair, perhaps—they do shed much, especially on their lush island—or even that of a megath, the thick and green-faced mammal full of fur. Soft, tepid fur. Quietly, I set awash over the chamber again: the bed to the further right side, I think a closet is held closed on the left side by an upturned and nocked chair into the handle, with the windows to the back wall. To my left, and to the very right of the room, past the bed, lies a table. I feel that it was moved from the original space but that it is as regular and simple as this entire chamber will be: not a spot of dress drags it down.

Oh... there is a rolled substance shoved into one side. It takes me a moment to puncture and squint at it, try to identify the fluffy being, until I realize it must be the mattress from the room Pauleen originated here. Perhaps that is why there are extra chairs scattered about, too. I suppose Todd and Pauleen combined have enough of their dresses that their allocation of brown and autumnal ones can easily cover the ground in a similar scheme for a hidden carpet and still can all that pastel ones be scattered thoroughly. Here I noticed that in front of the curtains are strung more dresses, and even more hang by the handle of the neglected closet. They... they are so committed...

Bowing my head, I lose sight of the others as I look at my fingers in my lap and tightly squeeze their tiny, white tips together. My face, I can feel the sight of the both of them looking over me. It is what to expect, as while they do not share much, u-um, they do share... relation to me. Somewhere further off, the trundling spell of stout duos churning their feet against fabric awakens me; I peep over just as Trikko lands his smaller body on top of me. Flower returns to Todd, who quickly yells at her to go into her medal; she does after explaining that Trikko tricked—and tripped—her and another was ripped. He squeals and yells more until one of them reveals their lie. That he was the one to be... E-eheh. Silly...

 _I didn't lie. It was Flower's idea._ Through a throaty grumble, he adds, _And that, that is not a lie._ He seems to find himself happy perched and swooning over my leg, so I let him be. My hand falls slowly into methodically petting his head, pulling and lolling it back as I do; while Trikko cannot quite purr, and even if he could, his tricera mindset would find it flawed, he does rumble some sort of tuneless beat under his breath, one that brings me to little giggles.

Todd scoots closer to me. Where my hand lifts, his strokes the sleepy boy. I smile as the eyelids of satisfyingly blue orbs flutter once or twice, and begin to heavily droop. Todd happily coos my dear Trikko as he fumbles toward rest, unable to even try to insult my foster brother at this stage. What does happen at the cause of this is how badly my perception comes, and how easily I will miss and my hand will not quite reach Trikko and instead touch Todd.

Eventually Rupert displays his feelings about this moment, scooting closer as well, and, in the moment that I once again sleepily, haplessly fail, placing his own hand beneath mine as he takes it and again pulls me closer to him, Trikko spilling out of my lap and into the folds of the dress Todd flounces in. He smiles behind my back as I collapse into the arms of the boy I so adore, my head falling to his shoulder as the yawning Trikko nigh takes me into his dreams, and I spill into my own, the tricera again a medal within me. Feeling this notion, I struggle with it.

For a moment, it is like the two of them really do work together. Todd yells something incomprehensible as the one I have fallen into gently holds me toward him and helps me up until all three of us—I almost—are on our feet. The green-dressed boy starts for the other side of the chamber, relentlessly searching, tossing objects around the place, for something fluffy of his, returning to my side with a shawl-like substance cloaking his arms. I feel it spill around me and contain me and I barely manage to uphold attention as he mentions the excited word of "dress!"

"So, so then, like, she can wear one and it'll sorta match with you and it'll be sooooo cuuuuuuute!" Warily he glances at the folded thing on me. "Hm. Hmmmm! Oh! Gosh! No! No no no! I can just imagine the disdain Pauleen would have if she saw this thing on you! It's waayyyy too purple, with these awkward hints of scarlet that totally don't fit you. Oh, and it's see-through, which I guess isn't an issue, but today it will be! Gyyyahh!" He tears it from me in a hurry without managing to rip it and reboots his search.

In the back of my head, and soon on the floor, a brown body chasing his long, white hair impedes. He runs after Todd happily. _Wheeee! Wheeeeee! Wheeeeeeee-heeheeeee! Aladee's gonna help! Aladee's gonna help!_ Excited and energized, it strangely combats the feelings Trikko fosters. Both of them rivet around inside of me. Gently, watching my purple orbs flick and twist, Rupert places one of his hands on... on my head... a-and he strokes me, just gently... just gently. Somewhere further off in the depths of me, I can hear the soft whisper of someone else. No... no... n-n-not _her_ but... but someone... someone who seeks through my eyes for the little brown bundle and laughs, only to herself, hiding her feelings from everything else.

Aladee and Todd scamper about the purposely untidy room, fulfilling of dresses, as they search for the, as my vivosaur calls it, "perfect Din-Din dress." Sometimes they will stop in one excursion and attempt to fit one on me, only for it to end in shameless titters and the removal of a nice fabric I would not mind wearing—only my dear fost—my dear... b-brother feels like... it would not be... u-um "good enough." And so they search, and they search happily, f-for they love to... look for and find... th-things th-that look nic-nice upon me... When I glance back toward the one I hold so close to me, he nods softly, encouraging, and, whence being sure none other have laid eyes on us, he will come close to me and softly, slipping his lips by me, he will kiss me.

My cheeks burn. Although... in the same time... I enjoy such feelings of which fill me. They bring crescents of tears just to the cusps of my eyes.

Rainbows of fabrics pass and pass, batons through my hands and over my scaled body. I glance worriedly at what will soon be covered by whichever garment is chosen; it took time for me to grow used to the feeling of air breathing eternally over my stomach. But I would rather be bombarded by the billowing winds of chill than to... t-to wear c-clothes that I would r-rip w-with my tail... I w-would rather not even marginally ruin these beautiful dresses b-because of my tail. A-and it is a stubborn soul: dislike and contempt to being covered so modestly causes it to thrash, almost, almost as if we have no connection whatsoever. Only I know it stems from me in the end. As well, I... simply... I h-have grown to... strangely prefer the absence of material on me. Thus, hearing the pitter-patter of paws and claws and slippers, I hesitantly roll my hands together as one, white blob.

Carefully do his eyes trek me. Faithful, guiding, sure that I am safe, right now, and now, and even now as well, Rupert does not voice much to my disposition. The way his orbs hold me does not feel sharp or cutting, or in a way that would suggest annoyance, more so a comforting sensation that he would rather stay... here. My eyes soon slip into tiny slits. "I am... sorry. I-I feel a little... better, now," I whisper. And I do. Guilt attempts to creak into the cracks of my dense heart as his eyes watch upon me and a small toll like a bell of fear rings from in him.

His hand covers mine if but a moment. "No. Do not be sorry." It becomes increasingly hard to probe and poke, to try and look at him. I drop the attempts. Brown surroundings shield me. And even soon, this is replaced by the protection of one shrouded in red. "Don't, Dina. You never tried to come into this position. Truly is none of this your fault. And if you don't feel well, please try not to worry about it. I wish for you to feel... better. I am relieved you do, in some way; still is that no excuse for you to try and... tire yourself evermore." Softly, his words, a brush, stroke the air. A solemn press into the atmosphere we share harmlessly touches me: I struggle and in the end cannot reach his gaze. Other words, his quiet, comforting voice murmurs to me, words I fail miserably to hear. Simply I nod, and, catching my looks, his pale fingers fold upon my shoulder for a moment. They hang longer than I had presumed. Perhaps Todd is... has his head stuck... um, up a hem.

When I do manage to color my sight again with him, where I feel safest and where he should stay, if he could please, he is not looking toward me. The yellow has about drained from his gaze; like glass, it reflects the mushy presence betwixt us all. Loudly, Pauleen snores where she is draped in her blankets. I hesitantly, slowly, flinching as I try, drag and clasp my tiny fingers, both hands pasted into and pulsing against his arm. Contact with his coat always births giddiness somewhere within me. I try not to...

"Dina..." In the edges of my world of sight, wings of angelic white coalesce and try to hold me until another voice intervenes:

"RUPERT. YOU ARE NOT TAKING OFF YOUR COAT UNTIL I'M DONE HERE."

And thus he halts. His back turned to the other boy allows a small grimace to cache upon his otherwise glowing, light face.

I-I wish for him... to not feel any sort of rush of chilling distaste among the bulk of the earth. Perhaps it is too much to ask, or or maybe not enough for a soul as gentle and deserving as his, but this casing, this shining, reflective apprehensiveness covers and becomes him effectively. This quiet and simple dodging in dance of the other breathing possibilities around him. I-I can understand why there may be fear... there is much inside of me a-at this time... but still, I wish... I wish for him to...

Anything... truly...

Todd from recesses I cannot even reach hollers that "if you don't let Dina wear that coat you're gonna ruin her entire dress cuz its design will be based on color matching—and that, okay?" He babbles on and on as he skips about his work, Aladee yipping, ripe on his heels, squat and the life of the chamber as he squeals and nips at ankles and seams alike. Feelings bubble from within. As the words give off and the silence reunites, fingers dig in through my shoulders and Rupert tightly holds me to himself. My own head curls and rests by his shoulder; the fabric he so consistently wears greatly smelling now of him, and I see this, I feel this, easily. Never has he... held me with such... strength...

It takes time, effort, and a patience I did not know my fos—brother had, but eventually the small and shimmering cloak of a skein of cloth goes over my head. Curls flop and struggle for light again as I shift in place and try to find a way through here. My arms surface first; tail stubbornly whacks against a bit of the soft, plush material before soon retreating; eyes poke into the brown sanctuary; my head raises. It itches where neck meets dress; scrutinizing cannot quite suffice; my fingers wriggle in this general area to find a small ruffle meeting and lapping like ocean waves toward the edge. It... it is... pink. A... a pink dress. Lined in white, yes, but... but the... i-it is so... the color of blush, the color of my feelings, if one were to drain all of my incredible, incomprehensible emotions that I constantly am in thrall of for Rupert, if one were to thread and string it into a dress... th-this is it. Immediately my fingers shield my face as I try to end the onslaught of squeaking.

In my own recesses, the tranquil rumbling of a great, feathered creature rouses me. _Aw, Dina... How luscious. Very sweet... It's soo pretty! And Todd was right; it will match with his coat. I mean, those sleeves are precious and dainty, but... they are a little short, and I don't know if you... um, would rather have longer, cloaking... him, cloaking—oh, I don't know. Either way, it's beautiful..._

None of this helps with my feelings in the slightest. I struggle not to drown. Torn begins rapidly yelling and spitting fireballs—metaphorical mind ones—that each delve into the hide of his best friend or Reyna and her poor blind and deaf self respectively. Trikko grunts, a heavy sleeper; for a time I remain hazily—fearfully—unsure of the course of action a large biped with thick, corded muscles will take. She, as of late, decides that Aladee is far too nearby, and thankfully lolls herself into a cradling position, sidling up beside my tricera. Torn does not apologize and no one asks him too.

For a short time.

 _TORN!_ Swooping elegance, Nyra twists her beak through their connection and squeals. _You aren't behaving, Torn! C-come on, that's not right! Don't t-treat others that way! How many times do I have to tell you these things? You know how much n-nobody likes this... nnn..._

Silence. Then; _Paaaa-haahaaaaahh. Torrrn, a snoortting bufoooooon if I've eeeverr seeen oneeee..._ Trikko, tongue half perched to his chin, sinks into dreamless submission yet again and leaves his best friend to chew on these words.

 _DAMMIT! FUCK YOU, TRIKKO!_

Trikko does not awaken to hear this, um, d-delightful persiflage.

Nyra still has yet to let go, all the same. _Torn! That's still rude! Wh-when do you learn?_ Her hapless bickering demands his attention, but the dimetro continues to peal from this direct course of action, of these "manners," and eventually, with nothing not disgraced, he grumbles heatedly that it is not like he did not deserve justice or anything because most certainly he did. A mention here or there, snide on the topic of _some bitch whose name starts with a fucking arr,_ but he eventually gives into the shrieking of the green-scaled nycto ace and mutters an apology or two.

By this time, I have yet to either take a stand or notice that his coat has already been safely fastened upon me. Hesitant fingers glide from their folds in my face, only for me to see it, feel it, smell it, that soft, flowery scent I cannot seem to get enough of, and for my hands to return to their original position. Palms tightly push into quivering cheeks.

Soft voices ask one another what they will do now that I have incapacitated myself. Rupert quietly states in a voice wrapped in the pretend of suggestion that he could carry me or perhaps this is all too much for me and we should go home where it is safer, which causes Todd to whisper-scream and whisper-pule with this decision. He demands he will tell me that Rupert has a diary with little hearts and Pauleen drawn on it if we must leave; Rupert surely knows that I would never believe that, u-um,I think; only he is silent, so I cannot tell, until one hand curls over me protectively and asks Todd why he wanted me to be moved in any way.

For the umpteenth time since the fated day their fates entwined, Todd refuses to oblige to the colder boy beside him. He does not outright respond to this; merely, the fingers clutching me hold me tighter. Still, I do not dare move my hands, because my face must be a red mess as of now. The squeaking has since ended, as far as I can tell, but a new wave of shame roils hot and steamy upon me, and I stay as I am. Quiet but present, always present, he leads me after the whimsical stepping of my... my brother. E-eheh... I require focus for some reason or another to call him... that. I cannot see why...

Todd and Rupert share small strings of whispers. Mostly it is Todd asking, and Rupert, almost... sh-shyly—s-so cute—answering: how is life with Din-Din following you around; how many times has Mistress told you what girls like; has there been any awkward moments; and if... his jealousy of even the slightest... Todd attempt... was staggering.

My feet lose memory of where we are by the time of the first turn of where I thought was outside of the chamber but may not be, as I cannot feel that chair outdoors anywhere; Rupert guides me, and I place my trust in him. Aladee drops into his medal, which, in reaction, finds itself nuzzled into the pocket where my other vivosaurs are stored. Torn takes a bite out of his time to rant until otherwise; he seems satisfied by this moment. They all... do. Perhaps they can see where we are going.

I can tell when we do arrive by how he halts and I nearly swing myself into him until he catches and holds me upright. His movements always delicate; his touch, gentle. Rupert watches, eyes bright, when I fumble for my fingers to fall and, like curtains, let in the light, so I may see him again. His skin is pale... a light, like ice, but warm enough to be thawed. Sleek. I... I like the way his jaw is formed, and how his face c-curves... because I think it is... v-very elegant. Todd, his face encircles like the plush but thin cookie he sometimes says he wishes he is. Mine is more small and angular and... i-it is not like the likes of the face I really like to look u-upon. His hair, longer than some but only just under his chin, blows in small pieces from him.

Todd giggles from beside him. "Ya like the balcony, am I right?" he cries. Happy. His voice, infectious in the gift of laughter, pulls me in. The fresh wind blows at his to-the-floor-and-farther dress of leafy green, his shoes floored by his fluffy gown, one I am sure he must love. Green is... I mean, i-it is his favorite color... "You have to. You haaave to~ I totally dig it, at least. And, like, if you don't, I'll—" Perhaps it is immature, but I enjoy the buildup of his childish yet squishy and kind voice. Unsure of how to end his sentence, he shrugs happily. "You guys've gotta toottally stay! Plus, like, Nomadistan's all close to the other side of the world and apparently that means the sunsets and sunrises are longer or something? I dunno, wasn't listening when Amurr told me. She's not around right now. You'll haave to see her later."

Happy. He babbles and he is happy. His voice flutters with wings I never saw it had until now. Their feathers stroke me in the light, playful wind. My eyes wander and sail with the colors that swoon from the great height and the rolling fields. A bucolic scene, that plays along beside me. It gives me a smile. A little one, perhaps, but a smile. When my fingers wend over a railing cool in the touch of marble, larger hands just by a margin plant over mine. When my head turns upward, I meet into a face I forgot to expect to be so right there my lips—and almost fearfully and blushing splutter—until he... pulls me in, close to him, and whispers between my lips not to worry. He holds me fearlessly in the giddy air. He holds me without care to who may be watching, a very specific _who_ , who he does not search for. Only... for me... only for me...

It feels safe here, so that even when it is dark outside, and the windows may be closed so that even bare light cannot stay in, even on those days, I feel that somewhere into the very depths of my being, perhaps, I will be okay. Rupert is here; that makes me very happy... that he is always here... Small bubbles of guilt form when he may sight and speak of Todd, but somehow, I feel as if inside of him, inside of any ice or glass that may still remain in him, even the pieces that will always be here, a little seedling may grow. Maybe... maybe it will grow to be very big, and it will have petals. Not will the petals be green, or blue, or pink. Nor will they softly glow any sort of night or morning or feathery white. They will not be red, either.

The flower that sprouts from his steadily-nurturing heart is all of these colors, and all of many more.

 **Me: x3 I wanted to make a semi-peaceful chapter before the next Jkonna one. Well, I wanted a really peaceful one... but stuff's still goin' on with Din-Din, so...**

 **But still! Toddy! ^^**

 **My goodness it's hard to give Rupert characterization when -so- -much- of him is DINA. Haha, it reminds me of another character who's similar in the way of only having one thought process... but he's not in this series xD**

 **Thank youuu~**


	28. Ja: T h o m a s

**Me: Hmm... I can't talk about much sillies right now... it wouldn't feel okay, with the serious chapter... hahaha.**

 **Droplet: -Yeah, but, like, it'll lift our spirits.-**

 **Me: ...you want me to lift your spirit?**

 **Droplet: -YES.-**

 **Me: ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A BEAUTIFUL PIPPYSAURUS REX**

 **Pippy: squealing**

 **Me: AND HE WAS THE BEAUTIFULLEST AND FAIREST OF ALL THE LANDS. BUT. BUT! THERE WAS AN EVIL LONE WHO THOUGHT THAT BEAUTY WAS STUPID**

 **Lone: moar squeal**

 **Me: AND BECAUSE OF THIS SHE DECIDED THAT SHE WOULD FIND THE BEAUTIFULLEST PIPPYSAURUS REX AND SHE WOULD FORCE HIM TO WALK UPON A LONELY ROAD.**

 **Lone: -AHHHHHHH- excite**

 **Me: BUT BUT. THEN. THE GREAT DROPLETPOO CAME AND SAVED HIM FROM DEMISE BY FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM.**

 **Foster: -And Foster ate the Evil Lone. The end.-**

 **Everyone: -ewwwww-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 28: T̨ͬ̓̇̉͑ͨ̽̏͊̉̆ͯ̓̽͑͏̰̝̠͚̘̰͓̮̙̻̦̜̣̠̫̳ ̨̛̞̭̳̟̮̰̳͙͙̭̠̯̗̠̱͕̝̺̮͆ͯ̄͐̄̉̈̅h̸̢̧̧̖͓̙̙̳͔͎ͣ̾̈̓͑̓ ̡̛͔̦̠̙̣̓̓ͮ̽̈́̊̽ͧ͋͗̓͗ͤ̅̉̌͌oͮͥ̋̔̅̈͌̉͊̏ͩ̚̚͏̷̨̨̼̻̰͡ ̵̴̡̛̯̣͍̻̗̫͖̞͙̣͉̔̌́͑́ͯ̓ͥ̅ͦ͋̚mͫͭ̉̽ͭͬ͑͛ͥ̈́̈́͒ͮ̎̃͒̌ͫ҉̸̤̥̺͉̙͇̲̯̙̱̗͠ͅ ̶̸̡̗̺̦̬͍̬̘̫̞̪̭̝͕̥̆̈ͫ͋̓̉̓̅͂̑̆̐͛͂̆̐ͫ̍̚͘̕a̵̧͚̻̞̭̠̳̗͑̾̃ͮ͐͛ ̟̖̗͓͉̱ͬ̑ͨͭ̽̀͝ŝ̵̢̩̝̤̬̙̪͎̞̣̪̪̙̱̩̙͎͉͇̣̌̏͗̈́͋ͬ̂̂̕̕͡

 _Jkonna_

The clouds stick in my eyes when I look at them. They rustle and hiss in fear of me as I stare. Or maybe... it's not because it's me that somehow looks terrifying but the feelings I'm surrounded by. A great, stuffy, diga-dumb whirlwind that just about, on the very fingertips of my life, consumes me. Its breath beats within, like a second heart, one that controls me. Or maybe it only wants to—diga... desires to. But it can't. I won't let it. I won't let it diga-do exactly as it asks for... that's wrong on so many levels. This is my body and it's where I belong. It's mine and mine alone... my gift and uh vessel to travel through life with.

Ominous strands of flaming hair shred across my vision. I try to steal a glance from the one powerfully strolling beside me but of course he diga-doesn't look, diga-doesn't even seem to notice, just the slightest bit, that I'm freaking out. Somehow, I'm not surprised. Or maybe I am... but I'm so worried and frozen by the fact of it that I can't think: I'm so numb...

He's already lifted from his lips what he's going to diga-do. His plan sits a hefty map in my head. One weighing me diga-down and scaring me out of the back of my skull. It's... not very simple at all. It diga-desires a very certain thing that scares me. But of course I really shouldn't be focusing on that; be freaking happy, Jkonna, be proud that he's actually asked me, actually voiced himself up to me. Somehow his mind is... working. O-or whatever. But maybe... but maybe instead... it's not him, but it's actually...

 _Bright gray eyes lodged into his head. "Hey, Jkonna?"_

Gahhhh. Diga-don't think about it... just diga-do... j-just diga-do, right now, since in the end it's all I really can diga-do. My heart passionately spikes into my throat and oh my gosh it hurts. I feel bruises knotting all from my forehead to the very cage my emotions are supposed to live in. Where they all, for everyone, diga-debut. Knuckles, all gnarled and cut at by years and years of leaves and sticks whacking over them, crack into a weak but wary, wild position. It shouldn't be this hard, should it, really?

A strangely bright, welcoming sun teeters around in the happy sky above us. It's little things like this that really make me mad. Oh my gosh.

Thick, sweltering rays of my personal angst teem through me and can't escape into the atmosphere because of my firm belief that my hair is too much for it to escape through. So now I'm stuck with this random feeling. It's completely absurd but it helps when I'm hysterically hiccuping. It diga-doesn't really matter how classic or crude I act at the moment; already checked by flicking his ear. His reactions have gotten diga-dull, diga-dull like his scratchy voice, like his very unseeing eyes that slip over mistakes and let him stumble over the soil. It's almost, in a pretty sad way, funny. Hilarious. Hysterical. I need help. Like, really badly. My knuckles, bundled and fearsome as they come, shake through my grip, which is also a sad thing.

Bangs shadow over my icy slices of eyes and the bits of the color beneath them in horizontal, lucid stripes. With flaming strips coloring over them, I only feel all the more heated to the maximum, diga-drained of any sense of freaking ice I ever had for some random reason in the first place. My lips, puckered and molded diga-dirt brown, gnaw through and against one another. I can't help but remember those words I kept repeating on end to a boy who's now gotten about as responsive as Foster on a regular basis. To my credit, the futabi diga-doesn't respond at this—probably on purpose... or whatever. I slouch as I walk, now, my tunic diga-devouring me in one swing. Small bits of sand diga-dunes scatter in my relentless wake. His own feet _sluuuuuurch_ and _cuuurrrrrchh_ each and every step of the way. I try to steer clear of his craters.

Again, I think about asking him where we're going. I think of an identical pair of blaring, chilly orbs that stared through the back of my skull, and the name of a creature that shouldn't be around. Sometimes I think about not following him; the fear that's lodged in my veins, steps with me as ice lined up in my soul. Feelings he wouldn't understand, because whatever his hidden fears are, they're obviously not mine. That hot tamale of a mind he carries in his pocket's enough said. I just think about his glacier buddy and feel that chill again lick from the tip to the toe of my spine. My face slithers into some crushed, hopeless glaze. Because of course I'd never leave him alone. Least of all now.

That steamy whisper in the back of my head presses against me and asks me if this isn't exactly what he was wishing for. What I really wish was that this stupid tone wasn't getting to me. But it is, and I feel it roiling and wrapping within me. But I can't let go of him; I can't leave him like this. I can't diga-drag him back, either. It's been tried.

Uneasily, I eye him yet again. Still stone stamped. Still lulled and smirking to himself in this fashion that suggests he'd been making that face since this morning, before I woke up. For all I know, ever since that and longer he's been like this. Ask all I want; his lips are locked. Diga-Droplet's practically brain-diga-dead. Reassuring, I know. Some irrational part of me wishes O'Mel was still here because he was an adorable little moel child and adorable little moel childs diga-don't act this ghastly. Which is probably a lie and I bet some poor moel kid is itching to prove me wrong, but that image really diga-doesn't help my already reluctant legs. Any way possible, I forge them on.

Sand catches in my toenails for the umpteenth time as I stab their unfortunate souls on another heated rock. Packed in the burning sun's glare only adds to my melted diga-demeaner as I glare and kick at diga-Dino, all his diga-doing in response being a lazy slope back for me, before spilling on top of me and us both plopping into the shores far off of water. I can't help it and I tear right open and I can't get up because he's heavy and I start to scream without thinking and because I'm a girl it's loud and if anyone was diga-dumb to be near be they would hear me and they would think I was insane and I diga-don't blame them. Toiling and tossing only brings me further under his grip.

This sudden wish fills the very essence of my body as I wait and wait and wait for diga-Dino to wake up and apologize for sleepwalking until noon. No such response emits. I wait, hopeful, more hopeful than I should be, his hand coming down hard and collapsing over my hair as I pull up and wait for his surprised look of what-the-heck's-going-on, only to be diga-dragged in a shock of pain to the grit again. Sand, like sugar, blocks my senses in a kitchen baking and smelling of absolute fear. I give off fear. I smell like fear. I feel cold. The sun pants diga-down upon me, diga-Dino stuck on top of me, as I shiver. Diga-dizzy.

 _Hey._ It returns, a monotonous loop I think might be my best friend or a confused krona. _Hey. Hey. Hey._ Around and around it goes. _HEEEEeeeeyyy. Ugh, why is she so unresponsive? How blasphemous. I feel so ignored. Ughhhh._ Is that—wait. I recognize that yawn. I recognize that yawn so well. My eyes shine brightly enough that even in their melted tears I diga-don't see the light in my best friend's own stare back toward me, so goofy and so silly and so not him.

 _No, stupid. It's me, your favorite futabi: freaking Foster. Aren't you so happy now?_ He's still yawning, joking, up to his an—oh. That's right... of course it's him... Guiltily, I can't get that awful diga-disappointment out of my stupid self. _Yes, I can tell you'd be jumping with joy—if only this boy—would soon find a reason to get up now. If Bliss was interested in rhymes again, she'd be happy with me._ He remarks all of this loudly and sleepily, like he's in some rancid diga-dream and my current state diga-doesn't matter. _Shut up. Does too._ And just to prove his point his hulking, finned figure covers over the sun in stark sand as he flops and flips diga-Dino over me. _I dunno if you wanna leave him here on his own, but I think we'll just go a shortcut and meet up with him later._

It takes only two seconds for me to tell him what a horrible idea that is.

Somehow, the yawn is imminent: _Yeeaaaaahhhh, but Lone'll watch over him. I'm not sure how, but she will, and Droplet will keep him supplied, and Harei will make him just as happy as now, and Pippy will protect him. They're still in his pocket; they're still right there for him, for goodness sake. Plus, I wanna go for a walk and race Dino. Let's see who makes it through the dunes and gets to shore first. I bet it'll be us. HAAAAAAaaaaaaah._

A very small part of me thinks he's right. For some reason, I end up following him through the washing of waves and the crackle of sea, away and away from the diga-deposited boy near the beach. It diga-dawns on me again, not so long later, that there's no way Foster knows where we're supposed to be going, but yet again I end up letting him take his sweet time through sands like he's not aquatic or anything and his fins were made to be diga-dragged through diga-deserts. It seems smarter to just let him diga-do his thing. I can yet at him later. I diga-don't... feel safe at the thought of talking right now.

" _Hey. Hey, Jkonna? I had a real smart idea, one day, and I gotta tell you about it before I forget again."_

Foster catches me before I spill to the ground again. Some how, some way, his neck comes into use. Choking over a mixture of diga-desolation and my own breath, I splutter and sob quietly and somehow he becomes the most comforting creature in the entire world, his orange self puttering and helpfully curling around me, his head over mine, nestled above the strands of flame in me. Not making any sort of strange cooing noises, bless his soul, but he's... there for me. His own mind's sorta mirrored in its own troubles and trials and that one smaller futabi he thinks so much about, so easy to tell when the fog all unravels. Sister. His sister. The one he cared so much about, and probably still does, and probably hates me for not unearthing all the futabi skulls in the entire world for his sake.

And still yet, he says nothing. He just stays. Foster, of all vivosaur—he just stays with me. I think the thought eventually registers as I laugh a little bitterly after myself. But he watches over me, for some Foster reason, and he stays, and I stay, until my brain entrails the thought of that one weird vivosaur Nick Nack had, the anan with all the jewelry and the creepy rapper accent, and I can go on again. So diga-does he. So... diga-does he. It means more to me than I diga-dare mention or try to think of. Besides, if I diga-did, I might just... collapse again... or, um, something...

Like stars in my sky, thoughts in my head cloud with faces. Very interesting combinations of faces. Memorable bits like floppy, fluffy, brown ears and long noses and green masks, bits of chewed-off pieces of these special faces, cough up into this one pile of awkwardness that Morie faints from the moment she steps into the mess. Once her diga-delicate, feathered head hits the metaphorical floor, I try to focus more on the sand below me and the trail Foster slithers through. His underbelly has completely crusted over in yellow, like his fins are some orange-flavored pie inside. It's gross. Foster's just. Gross.

Still, I ponder. We walk and we walk, so hopelessly aimlessly, and I ponder quietly about the things in life. About creatures who come back from their soulful state—and let's flick that out of my head—and um like... happy orange-haired girls diga-dressed cleanly in one big black cloak that perfectly fits her pale self. And thus one diga-day she meets an idiot named Nick Nack and they fall in love. And her parents, although they meet the perfect example of vampires and they're plain weird, they seem to let a bright and light guy take their diga-daughter's heart away in the end and they're happily ever after, the end, no other parts of the story like that "fifteen years later" turd. No more. I wish.

Panting, I try to bubble my breath into one net of a lungful; it of course escapes through me. Whatever I was trying obviously diga-doesn't diga-do much. Pouting, I wonder what diga-Doug might think if he was in my situation. If his wonderful lab-coated self was trail-blazing with me right now, and we each followed Foster together into the musty diga-dunes that threaten of creepy mirage rainbows. The more I focus on them, the more they shapely curve into diga-dark skin traced in glasses and spines of soft, turquoise hair: the more I can't bear to look. So it's kinda not the easiest situation in the world. Thumbing, hands in front of me and cupped together, I can't help but worry about _him_ , too. About how the diga-doc, about how my diga-dad's diga-doing. That he and Vivian fare well. Their heads not stuck in the sky or slung in the soil. Together. Always together. That blaring image of together stripey in my sight.

I-I'm together. I'm with Foster, my futabi, my other vivosaurs, unconscious Morie. They're all here. D-diga-Dino's not, but they are. Plus, Foster told me to leave him. W-we've gotta r-run into him soon or something. I can't really identify all that much without him; my long-necked meanie's kinda cold but he's... not that cold... right? I... um... I'm trusting him, I swear. I swear...

" _Jkonna. We need to go outside, far, far away from the Greenhorn Plains."_

Gritting my teeth, I zone out of my little world on the inside and crush it under my angry, blistered foot. The _crackle-crackle_ of scratchy, peeling skin appeals to my diga-disgruntled, diga-dirty, diga-dire frame, as I snort finely at this sound of suffer. Plus, I can't really feel the reaction or how much sand I'm getting into myself. Nothing burns right now. It's like I'm enveloped in a cool, slick seal of water. One coating me from every imaginable angle. One filling my very being with water. Great, heaving, rolling waves, soothing to the touch, simple, bathetic, emotions filling them as they toss me. My tears fill me in this sensation. Maybe now I've diga-dried; a hand slowly diga-drags itself through to my eye and I wonder just how colorless it might feel now. On the inside.

My hands lope around and connect by my spine as I kick and sweep. It's hard business to clean up the wreckage in me; pretending that I'm opening up my crevices and blowing out the diga-dirt kinda feels clean, even if it's not real. It reminds me of those mirage thingies. This sorta balled-up cove area—I swear water's nearby—it's tidy. It's pretty sweet. It's empty. Too empty. Pathetically I claw a hand across my heart and think about my friends, and think about the one that's somewhere behind me.

Sniggers ensue. Somehow, I'm really not surprised. That musty, golden body sprawls out in my head and hits me with a new weight entirely. _Wow, I didn't think you'd be so right about how lopsided she is right now. Like. Heck. My gosh. Did you do something to her, ya filthy weirdo? I wouldn't put it past you. I'm sure you know that._

 _Oh, shut up. You make me feel so unrighteous, like I'm not good enough. It's very much an unpleasant sensation, Bliss, should I let you be aware!_

Sandwiched between them, happy about this set of placement, Bomba giggles. Her tangled wrath of blue-tinged feathers sneaks into the noses of the other two and they each let out monstrous sneezes the size of their combined souls.

Turquoise strikes turquoise in the back of my head and numb, stricken, not really sure what I'm diga-doing, I cry, _Why can't we turn back already? You stupid diga! Diga, turn back! Turn back!_

 _Oh my gosh haven't we been over this Jkonna._

 _N-no! We have to go get diga-Dino already! We l-left him behind! We left him behind!_

 _We're gonna meet up with him later. I thought it'd be better for you if we went another way. You're kinda... y'know._

 _But we can't leave him all alone out there! Y-you're just asking for diga-desolation!_

 _Because there's no way Droplet and Lone combined makes a terrifyingly formidable team,_ tiredly finishes my futabi. He wrenches his finned, diga-dried jaw, cracked in places, and yawns a little happily. When I look up, the sky's clouded in a perfect little foam of fog.

Not really trying anymore, I sulk into the ground and mumble, _You also know at any time I have the ability to turn around. Diga..._

 _You'd never do that._

 _Sh-shut up._

And simply, that's that. As strongly as I fold my arms over myself, it's obvious where that conversation went to and just how useful it was. While that foggy, shady, sightless cloth of an atmosphere just adds to my already blurry vision, it's a comfort, how it wraps and trails and forever sticks by me. Like a loyal vivosaur, it happily trundles about. Angry at my constant tripping, a certain fin kicks me over and plops me on his back. It's just the two of us right now in this world; faithfully I hug his neck closer to me.

" _It's gonna be farther away than any of us could ever have imagined before!"_

I jolt in place. My feet scrabble. Their reluctant toenails kick at poor Foster's body. The sun's suddenly brighter, the diga-day's suddenly clearer, everything's pouring diga-down on me in one nonsense waterfall and I'm trapped below the diga-downpour. Spluttering, I hug him closer to me. It's a luxury I wish I'd noticed before now, stuffing my hair-laden face in his flabby neck. Fins meet and console me. I sorta hang around right there. It's peaceful. Even just a tiny bit.

Happy little lumps of frig-mas matching colors sit just behind me. I can feel their heads against my back until two of them lift a random third one, in a much tinier form than the first two, up atop the crown of my head. Diga-dirty blonde fingers tread into my vision. Bliss happily trounces around there, her feet entangled in my hair like it's the most normal thing out there. And honestly, where we are right now, it might as well be. Her fingers pat at my forehead, her blonde to my much more formidable brown, and she blows steam in my face. Her hazel eyes pinch, which I feel in my head. _You're acting really sketchy, Jkkie,_ she hums almost to herself.

A small part of me thinks of yelling back at her. I diga-don't diga-do this. Somehow it feels like a weight has been lifted. From behind her, Bomba whistles to herself between her lips and it's one of those awful whistles where she's tripping over her own tunes and spit's getting everywhere and I'm not the only one who wants to toss her off the Foster ferry. _Hrr-hrr-hrrr-hrrrrrrrr! Durr-durr-durr-durrrrrrrr! Mor-ie-wake-uuuuppppPPP! Wake-up-soon-pleeaaaaaaaaaaaaAAASEE!_ Not really sure what's going on over here. If Morie's unconscious, Morie's unconscious. She sorta diga-desires her diga-delicate beauty sleep. Out of nowhere, I hear a loud, annoying laugh: wait, that's mine. Angrily I bite my tongue and sulk as I stare at the everlasting sand.

Eventually diga-discarding the m-raptor, who's still randomly passed out behind, Bomba scrambles up my hair like a rope ladder after shrinking some herself, and lands, _plurp_ , in my lap, and stays there like that. Even with my legs wrapped around Foster's neck she lands perfectly. It'd feel wrong to diga-disturb her. A hand gently presses away from Foster's faithful hold, curling and cupping and patting very softly at the snuggled, warm, and content u-raptor. Her fiery body shimmers like she, for once, accepted being a fire vivosaur—though I diga-doubt that.

" _Aw, c'mon, it'll be fun, Jkonna!"_

Gah!

" _Just for a stroll! Let's go!"_

I try and I try, again and again, to ward off the little trail of memories as they only surround me further, but of course all I diga-do in the end is let them in. My mind screeches back at them. My heart slams into anything and everything nearby. Just to make a big enough racket for me to tell how this makes it feel. How this makes me feel. Not very okay in the slightest. Swaying pushover hands frantically grab at the glob of candle-like safety in front of me, stuffing into his waxy body. It's still diga-dry, and I diga-dunno if it ever won't be, but it's safe. He titters as I hide inside of him from what's inside of me.

Casually, casually, _You do know that makes no sense, right? No? Great. Ex-aaaaactly what I need._ He yawns loudly. Waits a couple moments. Licks his chops. _We'll probably meet up again with 'im soon, if you were wondering. Personally, I'd rather we didn't go follow this guy around, but I guess I'm the freaking Foster so my opinion less than matters. Also, like, Dino. So again. Same thing. We're gonna go find him again and you'll be sooooo happy, won't you?_

We slither over a diga-dune. I struggle to think about what he means. There's this part of me that feels like every time he so graces my presence in his full self and speech, he swims in circles around me, diga-dodging the full meaning of this and biting off a few words in that. Like that whole "Trikko" thing, or whatever. And how his mindset's that of a fog, when he's not hiding much but a sister he holds diga-dear to him. I wonder if someone reminds him of her... and it makes it harder. Pff, probably... um, Bliss, obviously. Totally...

Like lightning, it flashes in my mind for an utter split second.

" _Unless you're scaaaaarreeeeeeeeed, Jiiiiikooooonnnnnnaaaaaaaaaa~" And for an entire second, his little smile cracks into a wide, waxy sneer._

Sh-sh-shut up, diga-Dino! Yeah, I'm scared! Why the heck wouldn't I be scared? I'm terrified, okay! I'm terrified! No matter what, these words slap at me and leave bruises worse than bruises on the inside of my mind. I can try all I want to swat them away, to punch them back, to diga-do something, anything, to ward them away: but they're mist in my hands.

 _Ohhhh my goshhhhhhhh, callmmmmm doowwnnn, we're almost theee—_ He cuts himself off rather abruptly and his yawn that he was about to make goes snuffed diga-down his throat. _Whoa. Jkonna. We're almost there. Try to think about happy tefflas flying into a rainbow and Bliss with their creepy wings on her back, trying but too fat to get anywhere._ My eyes glaze over as I diga-do as instructed... It'll keep me going. _Just try to keep Bliss from eating them._

 _Hey!  
_

 _Oooopsies! Fostie, I accidentally let mine eat one!_

 _Heeeyyyyyy!_

 _Whatever, Bomba._ He goes on, she missing a teffla, Bliss angrier than usual. _So I figured you'd want proof we're going in the right direction. I just sort of waddled around in circles until Dino got up. I saw this. Now we're following him, only he's going down a small cliff we'll soon see in front of us, and then we'll all get in our medals and Jkonna'll try to jump him. Or she'll break a leg. Either way's fine; it'll get his attention._

Now it's my turn to feel angry and neglected.

 _Moooooving onnnn._ I diga-decide that maybe I diga-don't know why, but Foster's gotta be diga-doing everything for a Foster purpose of his. It's... silly, in a way, all this planning. Makes me wanna laugh. Kind of. _So! Shush. I don't care for the quantity of how much any of you hate me at this time. Jkonna, if your precious Dino's so precious, you might as well go get him or something._

Wincing, I look away. He diga-doesn't ask me why it's hard; instead, _Oh, I see. You have feelings for him._

 _I HATE YOU! I DIGA-DO NOT!_

Never has Foster laughed at one of his own awful jokes, but his jaw quirks around its rough corners after his gaze glistens toward me. He closes one eye, more like it's in pain than a wink, and shrinks into his medal as the others follow, even a half-conscious Morie. Since she has no idea yet what's going on and how much at risk I am of breaking a leg, I should probably start running. Feet pump and pump against lots of hot sand; faintly, farther off as it bleeds into the horizon, there stands waves of water like Vivian's glistening strands of hair. It threads through silky soil and seashells like no other. Diga-Dino's not very close to it, jogging more on some trail I'm about to trounce over to pounce, then, on him. But he must see it, too.

Wonder what he's thinking right now... Before I can take it back, a chorus of yelling memories in the back of my head tries to fight for attention over their brethren. My eyes narrow. Diga-doesn't solve much, but it makes me feel better about myself. Still, I wonder. And I watch. And, as always, I worry. Meandering off toward the edge of the sand bar, I kick my feet off and spill some sand. The rolling diga-dunes of yellow, like a maze in some clusters, diga-digs at my feet, tiny particles of grit the single cause of this. Such tiny things... the creators of golden, majestic wonders, mystic diga-delights. My heart nearly stops when I remember he'd wanted to see this place. Warnings flash all over my eyes.

It's a relief like a wind tossing through me to see he is up and running, just like Foster suggested and told me. Still... it's diga-different to... to see it now, with my own eyes. I run a hand through my hair like I'm diga-dreaming. A trill I can't even try to express creeps up and up and up through my veins, pumping on pure power in my blood inside of me to icily cast upon my whole body. He was acting so weird earlier... Sure, now he's got his hands by his side, in that pose that lets me know he wishes he still had pockets. His scales... glitter. Like, a lot. His eyes... if I can... turn and catch them before I have to jump... they're... um... they're... I lick my lips. They're...

Ugh. Whatever. I have to jump like right now if I diga-don't wanna break a leg. Sucking in a breath, convincing myself this is the right thing to diga-do, I slam myself up off the tiny cliff and into the squishy, warm body of a fellow idiot. We go tumbling to the ground, flowers under the foot of an innocent kid. My hair, streamers of fire, expand and covers the both of us after my little excursion... I just realized I have no idea how I'm going to get this sand out of my hair by the end of this... oh, gosh, that's such a random nightmare to look back on. Someone's gonna kill me for this. Spluttering casually on bits of grit, I force myself to the very least the tips of my knees, squatting and staring at a guy who was just walking with his eyes closed. They're still reluctant to open.

"Owww..." he mumbles. Sneezes once or twice. His spines of hair, fluffy and pure, stick around in awkward splotches of orange and black. His hands bend in front of his head where he crashed. Suddenly, a shock of guilt ices through me. Guess I diga-deserved it, though. "Nnnnnng..." Oh? He's focusing. Tail wagging very readily. Pushing, pushing, pushing himself... and... and... "Gaaaahhh..." Uh. What diga-does that mean?

Out of nowhere, a wild hand paws at me and we both go tumbling diga-down a steep hill of sand and sand and more sand, rapidly spinning and spinning so much closer to the sea than I really wanted to be. Every time I open my mouth for anything, it's met with sand, and the cruel taste of thick, smelly ocean is enough to quench me for another couple seconds.

"Umpfh! Nnph! Puhh! Sphh..!"  
"Baaahhhhhhh—gah!"

We strike heads and each cry out together: "AAAaahhhhhhh—haaaaa-haaaaa _aaaaaahhhhh!"_

I try to tell him it was totally his fault but am met, helplessly, with everlasting earth to fill me. Smoothly we glide, no resistance met, when, strikingly, again, his limbs move on their own. Nails clip through my skin, pulsating, pulling, both of us on our feet, halfway or no, diga-dizzy, confused, I try to spin away and go _sput_ instead. My tongue, bitten and lolled from my lips, has grown accustomed to this new taste of diga-defeat. This... sand. Ulgh. My stomach hurts. I'm a little miffed. While I'm busy sunbathing, my head thoroughly scrambled, some indecent thing traps my heel in its mitt. It diga-drags me before abruptly lifting me from my attempt to rest.

 _Spaaaahhhhh—spff!_

Up in the air again, neatly caught like some brownie treat, I'm toted peacefully. Until of course I lash back out in my own attempt of a kick. I wouldn't have to, wouldn't want to, would never diga-dream of ever kicking, hurting, trying to actually scar and escape from this honest-to-ancients lovable boy. It's an awful sensation that sickly slides diga-down my spine. I feel... out of control. Not of my own but because... because of his hands. They're chilling to the touch. They race through my body and escape out one end by entering in another. I feel its shavings of chill etching into me as we both fall yet again into heated powder. Only this time, something was waiting on the other side.

It might've been a hole—probably was—but the way I fell into it cantered me in a stem of blistering, steaming diga-despair. Hot, hot, hot again. Hot! I struggle and try, and try to my own diga-denial, but of course I can't escape this time, and diga-Dino's bruised body slams against mine as mine butts against his and I'm not sure if he feels the same—maybe—but I'm lost. And I'm hurt. Really hurt. I've been punched in the heart, almost like. Whatever it is that we've gotten ourselves into sends me into a great sky of blackness for some amount of time. My head throbs a bit, and my hair flicks in bits of salt, but otherwise, I can't tell much of anything. I really... diga-don't think it's something... bad, or anything. At least, not right now. And not all that much time escapes from me. But I... can't complain. Sleep diga-doesn't always come this easily...

Weakly, at some point, I manage to struggle to my hands. They cup and nails cut into some soft but formidable bit of earth underneath me. A leg I can't see and half feel casually kicks at it, coming up bruised. Bad idea. Got it. When I tear at the cloth-like material in my hands... I'm just left empty. Like, what? Where am I? Who am—no, I'm kidding. I... I know that much. M'name's Jkonna; I'm a digadig; my vivosaurs consist of Bliss the zesty, the put-out-fire of Bomba, a motherly Morie, and some old fart we call Foster. That makes me laugh, a little bit. What else? My skin's like chocolate diga-dark. My tunic's more a honey brown, laced in beads diga-Dino can't even see, cuz, like, he's blind. No, he's not. Diga-Dino's... my... um... um... My eyes are blue. But they're a light blue, an ice blue. My hair's mostly red, but there's all these twisting hints of orange in it, so we all call it fiery. Like cuts on my cheeks are turquoise stripes. It's a digadig... and a... a diga-dinaurian thing, too. Which is... which is diga-Dino...

He's my best friend...

I cut back a sob; it spills anyways. I'm pretty futile right now. Kinda... um... hopeless. Wiping back my eyes, trying hard not to pay attention to the scrubbed-away lines of grit on my cheeks, I sigh softly to myself and try not to let it become a whimper, but it diga-does, anyways, and there's nothing I wanna diga-do about it. My heart's a stone in my chest. It rolls around, some. Mostly makes it harder to breathe.

Hesitantly, my eyes pull back like curtains, and I... I... I let in.. some light. It's light. A breath spills out of me. It's light! Oh, I'm so thankful it's only that honeying color. Oh my gosh. It's light. I'm so excited, all because it's light. I crawl on diga-doable hands and knees toward the lump on the left side of this egg-shaped chamber. The big, round part of it opens up to crags and the sunlight, the pointy edge supporting a shadow of a person, whose big eyes let in light, too, when I poke him.

It's diga-Dino. Of course it is. He can tell I've been crying—uuuugggghhhhhh—and quickly tackles me to the ground in a warm, happy hug. Laughing softly, we let go of each other and crawl toward the light to the side. It's brighter than I thought it was at first. And it's not as high up as I thought, either. Like a small hut... in... over the... Oh. Oh gosh, that's a lot of water out there. Where diga-did the water come from, if I might so ask?

Okay, no, I've got something that's important to me. It'll make it easier to move if I just glance toward him and put my breath, put my heart into it: "U-u-u..." I cough. "Um!" He looks. Oh gosh. He looks. My hands pathetically curl up together. It diga-doesn't diga-do all that much, when I think about it. Whatever. I carry on. "How diga-do... diga-do you... umm... feel? Diga... Diga-Dino?" I swear he can look into my eyes and see how knotted and mangled I feel. It's like my existence was rolled up into a thin, long string and then given to some five-year-old. I stare horridly at my fingers and wonder what their clay-colored tips would look like, knotted and linked and linked in all these rips and twists. Ugly twists. Chewing on my lip, I touch my fingertip. It's still there; and yet I wonder.

He must wonder too. Half of me glances furtively, the other diga-doesn't even bother to try. His fluffy hair falls as he shakes his head softly. He's not as wild as he once was. Somehow, it just suits him even more. Folding up and whacking his tail satisfactorily on the earthen ground, he murmurs, "I thiiiink I'm okay. I... I mean, I can't really be fully sure... can't really remember much, but... I think I'm probably not dead."

"You are not diga-dead."

"Says who?"

I lunge at him freakishly fast, securing his hand in my fingers and pinching him with all the might and strength that I really diga-don't have. But um I mean it's something so he must've felt something. He's real. His surprise, like I'm the cake that landed on his chest, coats him. Flickers of candles of light diga-dance mystically in his gaze, and I watch, curious. He winces. "Jkkie. You're on my chest."

"Oh yeah!" I squeak and jump back. Try to settle myself again, but my heart's racing now so it's not like we're getting anywhere. At least, I'm not. Again I chew at my lip and stare at the mangled mess in the back of my head that is me.

A little sigh curls off of him. He shakes himself, murmuring in that silly but relaxed but soft voice of his, that diga-Dino tone of his, "Sorry." I jolt. When was the last time he took responsibility for, uh, anything? Seeing my face, he chuckles, then. It's a lot like diga-Doug's voice, too, in a way. I get caught up on the little things and struggle to return to breathing as he talks. It's nice background music, a nice whisper in my ear. I focus, kind of, on words. "...not your fault...appened isn't what y...id or anything, okay? Okay?" What yeah okay. I nod. Something. "Yeah... you didn't do anything wrong, okay?" Calming a little, I nod again. This time, I mean it. In a breath, the tenderness of our strong connection takes up all the space in the egg-shaped chamber. "I'm... not sure where anyone is right now, other than us, or where we are, or how we got here in the first place—but you have to know: none of this is cuz of you. I'm... not quite sure what was going on. Feel like I played a part 'er somethin'... haah. But um... we're together now. I'm not going to kiss you, and you're not going to kiss me—thank you very much—but we're together now."

Not really sure what to tell him back for that, I just splutter. "R-r-right. D-diga. Right..." My eyes trail for the humming seas that wrap us in, the scarf that overflows us. Casually, I shimmy off toward the very edge of our craggy coast. Diga-dip my feet off the side, yank them just over the waves. I diga-don't quite reach the waters. When he scoots close to me and copies my movements, he's tall enough to get his feet all wet. Black scales submerged in the never-ending seas. They mimic the skies above us, around us. Blue is everywhere; but where are we? I diga-dunno. Just kinda happy he's not all... creepy again. Or... whatever that was. Diga-Dino couldn't really come up with much memory on his side, but I very visually rub my hand against my cheek and wince at the bruises from when I fell into the sand.

"Nothing?" I whisper. My voice has shrunk. "You diga-don't recall even a tiny little thingy?"

Diga-Dino raises his head to the clouds and the ceiling. He yawns softly. The way the lines he's made in his face curve, though, suggests he's not in the mood to rest. "Umm... well, there's this one part. But it involves Lone, so... like... But! But, but! Before all that... I think last night... I remember I asked you if you wanted to go on a new adventure tomorrow. Well... sorta new. Reused. Recycled adventure."

"Said all that?" Oop.

"Yeaahh, but you were snoring. I was pretending you were awake."

Oh, okay. That's why I sorta blanked there. Gosh, diga-Dino, you're gonna kill me. But I think about what he's been mentioning, and casually, like that of reaching into an empty cabinet, I explore my creepily quieted mind. It's not even that I'm scared out of my skull again or anything. Diga-Dino helped with that. And even if I was like hyperventilating or something, like, Harei would probably pop out of nowhere and try to warm me, at least be with me: she's like that. And... um... It's... kinda diga-dumb, but I diga-don't... there's no fogs. No fogs at all. Everything's all... sparkly and clear... maybe Foster was right... I feel like he was... Where diga-does that make... him..?

While I'm not paying him much attention, one of his wet feet sneaks out of nowhere and kicks at my diga-dry one. I'd fall in from the sheer freaking shock of it if it wasn't for his grabbing me into safety again. Thanks? Diga-dunno. Please continue holding me, it makes me feel... safe. And warm. It's cold in here. Very cold.

Gah. I need to get my mind on something else or I'll keep thinking in loops and go crazy. "Diga-Dino, wanna play a game?" He perks at this. We love our games. Thank gosh for that. "Uhh... lessee... In-te-res-ting gaaammeees... ooh," my mumblings turn to kindles and ashes in my breath. Ugh... "How about we play a girly one I made up with my own sissy, diga? Can I diga-do that?" Perking like him, we stare at each other.

He's not blinking. So then I'm not blinking. He blows in my face and when I blink he laughs at me, then goes on. "Yeah, sure! Why not! But, afterwards... I get to choose the game. And I'm gonna choose one that Di—um... my honorary, um, sister, would like, if she was here." Smiling, I nod back.

"Sure!"

We're not completely sure what's going on; might as well catch a breather for a moment. He might be... kinda bruised too. I know that there's bits of sand stuck between some of his scales: a shiny mirror's coat's been etched on. Ha, poor guy. I wonder how bad it itches. Maybe not too much. When he glances for me, and that grin on his face spreads toward me, I know that no matter what's actually going on, and no matter what's actually messing with us, we'll be okay in the end. I'm... thankful for you, diga-Dino. Th-thank you for right now. Thank you for many right nows that happened before, and will happen after, this one.

We're still sitting, but we're on the rug in the middle of the earthen chamber now. It takes a few attempts—for me to figure out how to explain it right—but eventually I feel keen enough on the game. It's a pretty simple one that could even work on a three-year-old, when her sister who's six is the one explaining the game—and, ooh, that's one's me, I'm the six-year-old. Hmm... Pauleen wasn't younger by four years for that long... I wonder if her birthday's passed... I diga-don't think so... Shrugging, I focus back on what's here and who's now: our egg-shaped universe and the boy who's with me in it.

It's funny, diga-Dino trying to play a "girly" game. Like, it's one of those where you have to clap your hands with the other person so many times and then use one set of hands and then another, and then at some point you start calling out the names of colors of flowers or something like that, and then whoever messes up loses. I taught Pauleen by telling her that once we'd said all the kinds of vivosaurs in the world, then we won, both of us. But like, diga-Dino's diga-Dino, and this is fun too. The game changed as we grew up... We all change, diga-don't we? Somehow, I'm not all that upset by that statement. Maybe cuz... even while I watched him change... I just love him more and more by who he is now, who he was... I like thinking about who he'll be in the future, and how much more he'll smile and call me funny names.

That game, a simple game without a name, originated by two digadig girls who wanted something fun to diga-do, gets a lot more intense with that boy. He makes me smile, and he makes me laugh, and he gives me this weird, comfortable ball feeling in my heart, like the person I am, exactly me, I'm okay. And I should be proud of who I am when I'm with him. He'll get super into the game, and yank us both on our feet when I call out a color that he was gonna use. I'll be all "purple" and then he'll yank me. He'd always insist on going first, just so he could use "silver," so that I couldn't. But then, because he always chooses that one first, then I get "yellow." So it's fun that way. When I randomly switch to vivosaurs, it freaks him out and he impishly squeals, all like "uuhhhhhh krona?" and it's funny. I just follow up with "acro" and then he splutters like "seismo" and I go "ourano" and completely throw him off because he was gonna use Harei next, of course. It's a bit nostalgic, since we diga-don't know where they are, but we know some will take care of others. And they'll be happy when they see us. I wonder if he'll ever tire of the yanking and the yelling frantically like he's almost out of breath, if we'll ever get to his sister's game that he so wished to play. I mean, I'm ready... but he likes this one a whole lot. His gray orbs are so bright now, brighter than his orange skin—which is kind of a big diga-deal.

Our hearts thunder as we play this little game together. It always excites him when I call out something new, like "trees" or "dig sites" or "people." He gets so riled up and so diga-determined because of how much he wants to beat me and how much fun he's having. I guess I'm getting that way, too, but I'm... diga-drawn—mesmerized by his own reactions. How happy it makes him, to diga-do something so simple, something that really jogs his memories and gives him even more reasons to laugh that what he's already got. We're not crying. It's not painful. It's not upset or anything: he's simply diga-Dino, and I... Jkonna. Here we are. I can't express this gratitude I feel and this bounding in my chest, how truly upbeat I'm slowly turning to. I'm sure that eventually we'll switch to... to... to diga-Dina's game, too, but right now and right here, I can't imagine anything else. I love diga-Dino; really, really, I diga-do. He's wonderful... he's my best friend... he's always laughing and smiling, finding some diga-dumb reason to poke fun at someone else...

I toss my head up in the air, yelling happily, as my arm swings over to one side, breaks free of his. It shoots through atmosphere and cuts past earth alike as it molds into a blade. It's shining. It's on fire, it's col—ice.

My hand.  
Ice.  
ICE.  
I̧̫̼͈̪̋̈́͞ ̷͈͉̖͔̾̓̌̐̉͂ͫ͝C̴̯͙̗͇̝̙ͦ́͛̌̂͝ ̷̺͖̗͔͉̙͔̬ͪͭͧ́ͬͪͬ̚͘͝Ě̥̞̜̪̱̭͋̃́ ̵̵͓̖̥̖͉̰ͫͦ̅̽̀͞!̛ͧͣ̀̎̑ͣͭͦ͘͏̘  
I-It's ICE!  
On my... my... hand! ICE!  
Chills sever me into little Jkonna pieces as I spill.

But yet I diga-don't. I want to but I can't. I'm freezing over. I can't move. I can't move I can't—I'm just like diga-Duna the air is freezing my lungs and freezing my insides, I can't feel anything, there's nothing, Foster where diga-did you go, Foster, Foster—panic seizes me, and no one can even tell, because I'm freezing. It's first at my tips, then my arms, it's diga-devouring me in a tongue of perfect winter, arcing up me, filling me. My hips fill in ice, my chest tickles uncomfortably with the sensation of ice crawling and eating, eating me.

Frantic, my feet kick, but they can't. They won't. They can't. I diga-don't feel anything from them. My tunic's a useless flop, a new flap to weigh me in this frigid loss of my entity. Breath billows from my frozen lips, the color of blossoms, the color of diga-Droplet's eyes, tears, tears diga-dripping down mine. I cough; rough, rigid air spills out of me. I'm frozen. I-I'm liter—literally frozen. I'm frozen. I can't... I...

As hard as I blink, I only catch snippets of my best friend in front of me, his eyes whiter than eggs, his hands on me but I can't feel them, there's just ice. I want to tell him to let go of me; I diga-don't want him to be cold, too. But he diga-doesn't. Of course not. I can't even hear him, but I see, just faintly, the etch of lips moving. Slowly, though, slowly, I'm growing used to the idea that everything will be blue soon. Just a great big wall of blue. Only... there's more. There's more than the blue. My heart begins to sob but there's more than just blue, and there's no way I can avoid him now that he's right here, now that he's inside of me. His voice racks across ice, which only blooms more and more and more, making it hard to stand, but I'm frozen, so I can't stop standing. I'm scared.

I'm scared.

" _Unless you're scaaaaarreeeeeeeeed, Jiiiiikooooonnnnnnaaaaaaaaaa~" And for an entire second, his little smile cracks into a wide, waxy sneer._

You're so right! I am scared! I am scared! Save me! Please save me!

Of course he can't.

A wide and waxy sneer settles within the frigid diga-depths of my soul. It's not mine, but it's in me. The pompous snort of a good-for-nothing sauropod with more power than he diga-deserves trots happily in his new territory—as in, of course, as in me. My hair's lost all color. I've lost all color. Heck, I'm as pale as that one boy I saw in the... the... Cali... CALI—

 _Hello, my dear._

What was I thinking about? I'm numb. It's cold. Why... is... it... so... cold..? Every word diga-drips and slowly it drops, slowly, it drops. Who am I..? I feel like I asked that today... was it a joke? I don't think it was a joke. It's cold. It's very, very cold. All I can tell is that there's a voice, and the voice is inside of me. But I don't think it's my voice. But it might be my voice?

 _Dear, please cool. I'm afraid I don't have much else but to... Oh, what's that blithering fool doing in my path? Ah, I guess I'll have to move him._

Fingers that I didn't know I had before now slowly creak and etch and inch their way onto a very slender body part. It's like... a neck. I think it's a neck. It's pushed at. The owner of the neck goes flying somewhere, because I think I have more power than I thought I've ever had before now. Lots and lots... lots of power... It's...

so...  
much...

I can't breathe, there's so much power. I can't breathe. It's too thick. It's too coarse, this viscera that coats me like the ice. Dino. I swear I caught a glimpse of that guy that went flying in the wall. Dino? Was that it? Dino? Yes. No. YES. NO. NO NO. DINO. I KNOW WHO DINO IS. I know who Dino is. I think I know who that boy is. Why is he on the ground again? It's hard to look at him, I guess because eyes are hard to come by, but he looks tired. I wonder if... Slowly, I etch my fingers for him. Maybe I can reassure him or som—

 _Wh-wh? G-get! Diga! Get out of my—who am... who are... AAHHH! DIGA-DON'T TOUCH DIGA-DINO! DIGA-DON'T TOUCH HIM!_

I think I'm falling.

Yes, I'm falling. Like the boy did, only I'm falling outside, where I think there's light. It's brighter here, anyways. I never got to touch the boy. I wonder if he'll be okay. Was it good that I didn't touch him? I can't really tell. Maybe. He's far away now. I'm sinking. The water is cold. I am cold. Yes, I am very, very cold. Who am I? I ask myself this question again, but still nothing will tell me. There's that voice again, though, not the second one, but the first one. The one that called me "dear." It's becoming much stronger every second. I feel it grow in me. I can't really tell what's going on, but I think he likes it... what? What's "here?" What's this "here" you like so much? Do I like "here," too, or is that not allowed?

The second voice is hard to hear. Tears are hard to hear through. I think the second voice is scared? Why? Why are you scared? But it doesn't answer me, or maybe it's too hard to hear. The first voice laughs a lot, so maybe that's why it's so hard to hear. Maybe the second voice is so happy for the first voice that it's...

it's...

h—she. She's crying. She's happy? Is she happy? Am I happy?

W̪̱̗̒̈́͋̋̎͑͌ ̶̡̙̱̼̤͖͔́̉͋͐ͨ̃ͨͭh̡̰̱͓̓̕͝ ̪̝͇̗͖̝͛ͬͭͩ͑ͬo̴͈̗̥̻͍ͦ̀ͧ̒ͪ͡͠ ̑͂͏̷̞̪̤̼̠͍ ̮̞̝̥ͮ̿̀̕a̻̪̅̓̀ͅ ̴͈̳̺̫̋̋ͫ̿̇̍̔ͅm̷͖̺̯̫͉̘͖͌̇͢ͅ ̻͎͎̳͙̰̯ͯͭ̇̀̔ͩͪ̇ͯ ̧̯̼̱͚̪̠͓̦͆ͨ̇I̖͓̩͍͔̤̖͇͔ͨ̋ͨͥ̉̽ ͈̮̼ͪ̄͗̚?͖̣̓ͥͮ͆̄ͪ

H̨͎̳̘̞̳̣̫̦̱ͭ̍ ͨ̆͌̓ͨ̔ͦ͏̷̴͓̫̩̥͈̱̰ͅE̷̲͕̝̰̞͍͒̅̒͌ͯ ͥͭ͏̴̰͇̭ͅĻ̙̯̯̬̹̲̞̺͑̀ͦ̎͢ͅ ̢̟̮̘̹͕͊ͤ̍͟͟L̗̹͓̤̀̉̈ ͭ́ͦͤ̽̽҉̰̀Ó̦͇̻̠̱̈́ͫ͝ ̧̢̺̼̟̽̀̆ͥ?̨̞̦̭̠̐̈̐͆͡

Ȧ̧̡̡̤͔͓͔̞͋ͮ͛̌ͤ̂ͩ̃͛ͫͣ̐ͬ ̵̵͓̹͎̮͔̘ͩ̎ͩ͆ͥ̀͡Ņ̶̱͙̤̰̽ͫ̋ͪͩ̓ͨ͊ͣͅ ̳͕̯͖ͧͦ̓͌́̏̅̔͆͑͢͟Yͭͨ̂͌̔͋͌ͬ̀̅͏̶̵͙̭͚͓͇̘̀ ̢̢͈̪̠̰͇̞̩̫̭͓̠̜͚̫̔͂̓̓̈́̔ͧͣ͛̊̒̈́̉ͮ̾́͜͠Ơ̷͛̈́̋̏̀͠͏̣̼͔̪ ̘̦͎̪̱̪̫̘̫͉̟̺̯͉̞̗̳̗͂̈̄ͧͨ̃ͤ̾͊̑̚͜͡ͅN̸̡͕̬̪̩̭̗̦͈̥͍̬̭͕̺̭͍̂͗̿̒̓̎̋ͧ͌ͯͧͫ̀̾͆ͨ̓̄̀̀͢ ̃ͯ̐ͤ͋̄͋̏͒̋̈́͏͔̗̥̺̯͍̘̖̩̗̗͚̬͓̥͠Ȅ̶̴͙͕̥̼͚̫̹͔̯͈̹̙̹̺̩̯̫̳͛͂́ ̶̞̩͚̜̯̖̬̘̰̖͇̲͍͖̼͎͆ͬ̎̓̓̒͑̒̐ͤ́̀̓̆͗ͥͨͅ ̵͇̥̦͕͓͕̼̰̣̪̞̦͈͍̮̤ͥͫ̈́̏̊̃ͣ̇ͯ̂̉̽̌̍̅͗̉͗ͯ͠Ĥ̑̈ͧͬ̀͡҉̛͎̟͇̮̺̯̱͎͉͙̜͈̭͈ ̏͐͗ͮ̉̈̽̄ͩ́͘͟͠͏̦̭̼̠̰͔̲Ơ̥̮͚̟͇͍͕̹̏̒̒͜͠ ̵̡̤͇̣̼͇̙̖̙̻̦̣̺̫͊ͬ͑̾ͧͫ̉ͤͤ̓͒̐͊̈́͗́M̶̤̝̱̙͚͉̦̻ͤ͊̈̔͑ͫ̿̓ͨ̏ͯ̅̇̑ͤͬ̐͆͟ ̸̹̟̥̠̜̠̺͎̈́͐͐̽̽̇̈́͆͆̈̈́͒̃̔͋ͨ̀̉̀Ĕ͚̤͉̮̟ͬ̎̊̄̃ͭͭ̍̌͛ͯ͗͂̈̐̀́͜͠?̵̧̢̝͖̣͉̂ͣ̏̄ͩ̈́̎̇̑́̆ͤ̈́͊̅͑ͭ̈́̚

H̿̾ͥ̽ͦ̒̽ͤ̂̈́̇̂̽̒̈́̈҉͈̯͚̭͍̖̼̗̹̘͓̟̙̯͖̠́͘͞͝ͅ ̴̡͓͈͖͍̹̜̙̰̝͈̣̞̰̖͓͂͂̑̉ͬ͗ͯ̈́̌ͩͭ̄̽͂̄ͪ͝E̵̩̙̩̝̲̗͎̭̥͉͕̺͍͗̓ͧ͆ͨ́͐ͤͫ̂̕ ̩̬͙̫͕̱͂͆̅̿ͫ̆ͭͩ̿̍ͯ̅̈́̿̾ͨ͗͋͘͝͝L̇̒̅̐̄̏͒ͩͭͣͤͫͤ̄̆̂͢͏̶̨͙̥̙̪͈͙̣ ̵̸̭͈͎̘̯͈̟̩̼̖͕̠̼̯̺͎̾͛̎́ͮ͐ͥ̌ͥ̎͆̊̎ͤͨͤ́̌̕L̶̡͖̱̲̥͎̭̻̬͂̆͊̊́̆ͭ͐̈́͒̓̃͌̉̂̔͒̆ͨ͘͞ ̸͔͉̖͇̖̰̘̮̱͖̺̟͇̀̑̾̾́̆͐ͮ̇̏̃ͦ̐̎ͮͤ͗̚L̢̲̬͕̗͔͓̱̲͇͈͖̮͂ͣ͊̆ͥ̈ͧ͒̈͗̈͗ͫ̽ͮ̅̇͂͡ ͨͮ͗ͣͩ̽̾̈ͣ̾̍ͩ̿ͩͬ̃҉҉̴͇̳̪̩͔̠̗̺̳̱̺̤Ḷ̰̙͉̜͚͈̤͈̻̗̝̓ͮ̉̈́ͦ͆̏̚͜͝ ̴̶̢̣̙̠͍͉̰͎̻͇̟̩̠̙̺̥͓̒̂̆̏̓ͯ̾ͮ̀͝͡L̷̸͇͓̺̣͔̤̝̜̞̖̮̺̖̗͓̜̔̂ͤͭͧ͂̽̋̒ͪ̓̉̾ͪ́̚̕ ̶̳̹̣̠̞̼͚̉̋ͤ͛̆̊̋͒̽ͩ̆̔́͑͟L̔̏͛ͣ̐̎͊̔̓̃̒͏̴̼͇̲̬̹̗̘͖̳̰̜̱̞͢ͅͅ ̆ͥͦ̄̾̆ͪͨ͋ͬ̒̀̾͋͋͝҉̸͖͕̱̫͉̬̬̻͈̯͇̱͜L̛͙̟͔̮̪̩̥̱̹̥̰̈́͂̌ͭ̇̓̓̆̐͒͆̀͂̀͜ ̠͈̯͙̝͎̦͑̓̆̒͐ͧͮ̆ͬ̿͟͜L̡̄ͬ̊̊҉̥̩̤͍̬͙͉̥̼̮̗̺͙̦̱͞ ̵̷̵̛̼̫̰̞͇̪̥̲̲͎̰̙̾͐̉̿͂͐͑ͭ̓̂̏͜L̛̦̥̤̻̫̣̅͊͛͆͛̍ͮ̍̄͊̆̌͜͡ ̸̧̗̥̩̱̙͙̮͌̾̎ͪͦͧͧ̆̄ͮ̓̕͜L̍͑̊ͫ̉̃͛̅̍̚̚͞҉͎̤͉̦͇͖̬̣͕̗͓̙͕͘͡ͅ ̸͚̮͉͕̮̥͙̜̲̭̮̺̼ͭͩ͋̎͂ͪ̄̐ͬ͟͞͡L̃̓̽ͣ͑̀ͯ͂̎͏̙̹̺̥͇͚͚͍̗̹̀͝ͅͅ ̴̠̣͖̖̥ͨ̄̈́ͧ̾ͮ̈́̚͢L̸͇͍̪̳̥͓̹̣̖̲̳̿͆͂͛̒͂͐ͮͣ̈́͘ ̏̎̇͒͋̆̊̊ͧ̍ͬ̉̚͏̱͕͈͚̣̠̣̫͓̺̜̣̪͘͞L̻̻̰͙̺̙͇̟̳̱̭̳̩̺͓͔̟̇̅ͬ̾̋ͧ͗̄̉͗͘͜͞ ̱͍͓͔̱̯͉̖̳̯͍̃̅͌̑̒̎̔̎͡͝Ĺ͒͋͆̐͊̌ͪ͏̢̫̲̘̼ ̵̍͌ͮ̐ͭ̏ͤ͂̏̉̍ͤ́̒ͮ̂҉̷̧͙̲̹̖̮̜͢0ͫ̐̒ͬͨͮ̌̚̕͜͞͏͓̹̬͎͍̟̳̼̟̪̭͝?̨͍͉͙̪͎̗̱̲̺͍͙̳̤̮̪̻̬̠ͭ̉̌̍ͮ̿̒ͧ͐ͦ͜

Breath. Breath. Oh my gosh. Breath. _Help. It's reall_ y har _d to breat_ he... I dig _a-don't k_ now if I c _an..._

N-no! I gotta! Gotta... gotta... gotta... I feel like a shell... like I've been... I've been...

Control.

Diga-delicate... easy.. easy... um... my hands come snapping off the ice, and it melts and diga-dissipates and... oh gosh. I'm on the seafloor. I can't breathe. There's still too much ice to wei—

Okay. Jkonna. Head in the game... head in the game... Think about how mad Foster would be if you diga-di—no no, diga-don't... think about it... It's hard to breathe, because I can't, and all my motions are a bit of diga-disappointing slog... but... but... there. _Chnk._ Another crack gone. Soon enough, I'll be light enough, and I'll be able to swim. Sometimes everything goes diga-dark for a few moments, and it's cold and scary here, and I can't breathe, but if I keep working, then I'll be light enough, and I'll float. My throat hurts. Diga-don't think about it. Keep on. Keep on... Okay. Okay!

 _Chink! Chnk! Chn—chak!_

There it goes. There goes... free. Freedom. Now I can... I can... I can... Ahh... everything is blurry... I can't step... it's hard... it's hard to... to.. to...

Orange fins...

Orange fins..?

Orange... orange... orange...

I'm not quite sure how I diga-do it... no no... now he diga-does it.. how he found me... what happened... why Iggy kidnapped the two of us... why diga-Dino was so happy for me and not worried at all about minor injuries with ice... I'm not quite sure how anything happened...

How Thomas left my body... and seemingly returned in the world using his own...

Ah...

But now I have a blanket... and I'm really scared... so I think I'll stay right here, where I feel safe... and maybe that might help me...

 **Me: ;3 And that signaled the start...  
What does this mean?**

 **Thomas: -Hello, lassies and lads.-**

 **Me: yep  
say hi**

 **Foster: -rather not-**

… **  
I'm going to leave now. Ugh. My throat hurts from all that writing about throats getting hurt.**

 **Oh, and if anyone's wondering: that part where it was hard to read anything says:  
Who am I?  
Hello?  
Anyone home?  
HELLLLLLLLL0?**


	29. Do: Hidden

**Dino: So. Now what.**

 **Droplet: -At the moment I want to slap you for that kind of reaction.-**

 **Dino: I looove youuu—**

 **Droplet: -JUST LEAVE DINO-**

 **Pippy: ;_; -Wh-what if he loves you m-m-more than I d-d-**

 **Droplet: -Then I'll kill him.-**

 **Dino: OWO**

 **Droplet: -Or threaten to.-**

 **Dino: WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 29: Hidden

 _Dino_

Like a tiny, quiet fish, like Droplet if she wasn't so loud and stuff, I stir my little candy cane straw in the hot chocolate and blow little bubbles in the mix. Bits of whipped cream tickle my nose. It's a struggle not to sneeze in my drink. It's awful. I hate this struggle. Wiping angrily and letting the table know just how annoyed I feel, I slap my wet hand on its wooden surface and groan at the pain it brings me. My palm is mad now, too. I'm just full of bright ideas today. Burbling back at myself, oh boy oh boy how bright I am, I snort and stick my tongue out at the window. It's a great strip of glass to the near right wall. Being shiny, it glares right back at me and copies my motions without a doubt. I hate you, Sir Windy... wind... Wendy. Sir Wen—Miss Wendy. A shiver of giggles accompanies my stupid joke; Wendy rolls her eyes at me from the other side of the Center, if only I could see her from here.

But I'm doused in blankets and my hands shiver even when I hold my cup, so I'm obviously not the one laughing here. I'm... nnnnn, I wouldn't say siiick. I'm not sick anymore... I think. A cough. Snot in my mouth. Ughhh. Because I don't feel like going outside, I just... swallow it for now. Help me. I feel as disgusting as that Holt kid. To try and make myself feel better, I douse my insides with cocoa. It's... warm. It helps... some. Maybe. Lone aggressively purrs on my lap at that. Her purple-speckled body preens and her head rears right up at me: suddenly I feel threatened. She just snorts and flops over for now.

Passed out on the table is the first half of Pippy's head. The rest of him's sprawled all over the place. This room is a safe place, though it's not incredibly huge, so he's curled up everywhere, but he's comfortable. Lone's falling off her perch as it is. They all seem to feel better in their regular sizes right now. Comforting. Well, all but Harei. She's the golden blob by my feet, just the size of the table, so she's still shrunk. Droplet's around here somewhere, too: she has the weirdest snore and I can hear it right now. Plus, the place stinks a little of seawater.

Diggins said he'd check on me or something in a bit. So that's cool. I like him... nice guy...

Snorting in his sleep, I nearly lose both the drink and the entire cup when Pippy inhales. I slap at his seismo face, which of course accomplishes nothing, and comfortably rest my aching, bruised toes on Harei's warm back. She makes this _snurrfff_ noise at that. I laugh, just a little, just quietly, at her. She does it again. I laugh a little harder.

 _Aaahh... Ohhhhh, I love people who are this easy to amuse! They make me smile..._ She half-whispers it to herself, but I catch her in the act anyways. My feet patterning around on her spine, I can feel her blushing by what it does to my own face, and I laugh again. _Aaaahhh! D-Dino! St-stop it! Please, I'm begging! P-pretend you didn't hear that part! It's sooooooo embarrassing!_

Giggling, can't help it, I mumble back, _Yeaahhh, but, like, that's your entire personality! Please don't tell me you're fully embarrassing, cuz you're totally not! Harei, shut up and accept that you're adorable._ She doesn't. Not surprised there. _Ohhhh, come onnnn, maaaan. You aaaaree! So like accept it please? Yes! Do!_

 _D-Diiiiinnooooooooo!_ She's practically in tears by now. I'm starting to wonder if I should feel bad. _I-I'm not that great, like, l-l-like at aalllllllllll! Pl-please stop!_

Oh my gosh I'm going to hurt you. _HYRAAAAH!_ Jolting under the table, it's now that I suddenly realize I've left my cup of hot chocolate defenseless and Lone's gonna get it. An act of pure fear knocks over my chair without thinking—was that my tail or my foot?—and Lone struggles, too short to reach. Good. She'd freaking better. Okay, okay, now to focus on Harei. Shoveling myself closer to her golden face, bit by bit, she squeals out of her Harei fright, but we both try to ignore that as our faces start to pink. She doesn't have ears, but mine burn anyways, like if she had some they'd be little tomatoes growing on the sides of her head. Hareimatoes.

Hearing Lone's sly whimper begins to slowly and delicately rip my heart in two. I try not to focus on it, instead crawling up the purple carpet and straight into Harei's billed face. It's gold mostly on the sides and on her entire body, but at the tip of her head, and in the middle, there's a hulking stripe of night blue that follows on a tiny fan arcing down her back, touched up in weird, gold symbols I just took for granted. I think she takes them for granted too. Her dull, dark eyes fog up in evident tears. Awkwardly, trying to shush her and wipe at her slimy vivosaur droplets, she only cries all the harder. On our sides, staring at each other, she only cries harder. I feel like I just got dumped or something. And it's one of those awkward break-ups where the other one breaks up with you and they're just crying about how much you guys aren't gonna work together. And it's just... awkward. _Awkward._

A hand flutters out and awkwardly pats at her head. My hair, muffled up, must look pretty awkward. I must look pretty awkward myself, all slanted up in this position. Harei's... not awkward. At all. She's upset; with herself. She's just sobbing her heart out, and why the heck is she? She shouldn't be! She's pretty fantastic... if I do say so, um, myself... My scaled hands poke over her face again; hesitantly, those drippy eyes glow toward me. Through the rain comes the mystical, golden figure... just like Duna, when I'd met her for the first time in many years...

Okay yeahhh don't like that scenery in my head. It's hard to think about her. Whistling all the more awkward through the moment, somehow it manages to make Harei laugh. Maybe because my whistling's awful: it sounds like some croaky old fart. I am the desolation. I am the despair. She is laughing and it's pretty great. She's pretty great. Gosh, Harei, accept it already.

Through her fast-drying tears, she chokes out: _B-but I'm not... I'm just some plain old o-ourano... M-maybe it was a long time ago, but still, Droplet couldn't st-stand me... a-a-and! M-maybe she j-just got used to me in the end! What if she really d-does hate me! A-aaaand for good reason!_

It's wrong to laugh at a crying girl; I do it anyways. But I try not to sound all mean or anything. I mean, that's exactly what I'm trying to prove, that Harei's ego has taken quite a beating and she needs to chill. Please. Staring intently at her, I whisper in a voice as deep as it'll go—which still isn't all that deep—ugh— _Harei. Listen to me. Right here. Right now. Listen._ Her eyes sorta glaze over... turd..? _Harei! Listen!_

 _YEEEEPPPPPP!_ Oh. Okay. Great.

Casually, I continue on. _You. Are. Awesome. Okay? No, stop shaking your head. Don't let those tea—I SAID, BLOCKADE THOSE FLOOD GATES! NO CRYING! So anyways—you're very kind to the others. Yeah! Yeah you are—hey! Stop it! Don't gimme that look! You. Are! What the heck. You're also super loving and you don't yell at people enough and you're soooooo forgiving, it must drive Droplet a little bonkers. But then again, she's bonkers as it is. Eh?_ I finish off. She's only half about to cry now. I think. Gaze all screwed up and slammed shut... it's kinda hard to tell right now... Well, she'll be okay.

It takes a moment. One of those dripping moments, like off an icicle, that take ages to fall. Icicles... Gah. I shake my head. It takes a moment. Slowly, her very being quivering, head curled up to her shoulder, all cute but cry-like, she mumbles—she responds, _Y-y... really? Really? You... mean it? All of it?_

 _Ohhh my gosh—of course I do! You're super duper great, Harei!_

 _Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,_ she lamely replies. Looks about ready to faint. Oh, fantastic. How fantastic. Clearing my throat, I raise my eyebrows to her—she splutters through her snotty mass of tears, eyes fanned to the ground. I pet her. She squeals a bit at that. I'm sure tomorrow will be another day, and she might even act the same, then, like she was acting just before now, but... that's okay. She's trying at it. She's trying really hard. Gosh, she deserves more recognition. From now on, as much as I can, I'm gonna compliment Harei.

I get a response fast.

 _YEAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH! P-PLEEEAASEE! D-D-DINO, NO! D-DON'T DO THAT!_

 _Harei, you smell like rosebuds~_

I can't even describe the screaming on the other end anymore. She literally can't chill. I killed her chill. I burned her chill. Harei has no chill any longer. Maybe if I leave her be for a little while she'll be able to recover a bit. Seriously, though, she's so behind-the-scenes about all her greatness and I'm not gonna live with that anymore. Harei gets all the compliments and all the brightness. So quiet and teeny, hiding without care for being around others... striving not to... find those connections, almost... Harei...

 _CLUNK!_ Oh. Let me guess. Lone realized she could climb up Pippy's perilous body and snatch her way on the table, and now her beak is in my drink. I form a fist and— _BRACK—_ against the table, her squeaky self squawking hysterically as she sniffles and boogers and Lone's feathers go everywhere. Casually, like the gentleman I am, I tip back into my nice, wooden chair and hold my cup to myself. Staring at the discarded bundles of blankets, I decide I don't feel like picking them up and let them be. Out the window, the sun proudly shines up my eyes, and I try to ignore it for now. Just for a moment, let's be real: I'm sort of, but not really, a morning person.

Lone manages a tiny cheep of discontent—I notice I'm missing a candy cane-striped straw—but I let her be. Whatever. Just a straw. She can have it. Hearing this, her cheep grows louder, and she thankfully doesn't try to attack me again. That word—attack; _attack—_ crawls up my spine in an icy breath of—attack—unfairness and I decide I'm picking up the blankets after all. They're a whole patchwork of colors, probably one of the five trillion things Vivian's made for Diggins, because for some reason she's really into sewing and knitting junk for him to decorate all over his lovely Fossil Center. It's warm; that's all I really care about. Warm, and snuggly, and reminding me of the topic of home. Home... safety here. Lone cheeps again for some random reason. Wonder why. Weirdo.

When I try to cheep back at her, she shuts up. Yells at me in her—our heads. I thank her very kindly for such a wonderful thing. She doesn't like this very much. Harei content, Lone halfway there, I tip back a little in my chair and smile nicely to myself. My tail's twirled around through the arced holes in it; else it'd be kinda impossible to sit here. I stir at the flame in my fingers, kept and held tightly in its mug. The steam, like a mystical body, snarfs in my face, close and personal: steamy and protective, in a way. Reminds me of Foster. Which reminds me of Jk—ooh... which reminds me of "attack." I wince and try to keep it to myself.

She's not... scarred forever or anything. Least, not on the outside... I wonder how badly I messed up there. Haven't seen Thomas and Iggy since... Ah, Jkonna, I'm a big idiot. I could've hurt her a whole lot for all that happened. Didn't even think of him trying so hard to get his body back... using Jkonna to succeed. Ugh, that's such a dirty word now. His freaking success is a dirty word. I shoot a dirty look at my cup but continue to faithfully hold it anyways. Foster's been really protective over my dear Jkkie after everything. I'm protective, too... but it's a whole lot of emotion in one room... and I can move myself, so sometimes we take breaks from each other. I love her...

My eyes slice over to that blinding window. The sun's rise, a bit of yolk in the sky, is blinding and stupid. I'll always have a thing against the sun. It's just my way, y'know? Just my way... Peering at cottony clouds with this purposely suspicious gaze, like any one of them'll strike me over while I'm indoors, I furiously stir my cocoa with one finger and pretend it doesn't burn like heck. That thing's been hot for ages... I guess the rumors about Tramp having fire powers are true. Like, he's a big neutral-affiliated aopteryx, white bird gone red and big, but I thought he had fi—oh, oh yeah, Vivian. She's got this pink vivosaur, small, stick-like, Lone-like, but it's a nychus and her name's Dreary for some lovely reason. She might've done something, too. Gosh, they follow each other like everywhere now. Vivian and Diggins...Though I guess I'm the same with... Jkonna...

Again, I glance out the window. It feels like tree branches are walking on me. I shake my head; doesn't do much. Oh well. Protectively pulling at my rainbow of blankets doesn't do much either, but it makes me feel safe. I chuckle quietly as it reminds me of that fated shoe rainbow from so long ago... when I was on the ground of Greenhorn Plains and all those people... all those people were running past me. So many colors... quite the rainbow. It reminds me of Clem. He's this kid with signatures of all the best fossil fighters on his fancy shmancy red jacket—and I am ashamed to admit he got me to sign it too.

Quietly intruding on my life, Harei whispers, _But we're not fighting anymore, right? Fighting's... I mean, it's in our nature and everything at first, but..._

 _Yesss, yess, you poor soul._

Coughing, she squeaks out, _It reminds me of all my siblings... actually..._ Oh dang, she remembers something. Usually, like, vivosaurs don't have much memories, but I guess they start to come back in little swatches of toted material. Harei's golden face brightens a whole lot from under the shadow of the table. She's all lopsided. I probably looked stupider when I was under there. _They were all kinda mean! Don't give me that face! Heh... I don't think they liked me all that much... There was... twelve of us, I think. Ouranos like me... and a couple acros like Bliss, and... mostly carchars. Mostly carchar brothers. A couple sisters. Mostly carchar brothers. You know..? The golden ones with all the blue eyeliner and the getup and the markings? And the... uh, big noses?_

Suddenly very interested, I try to nod to keep up, keeping a lookout on the sun. _Hrr? Yeah, yeah. Them. Big and ugly._

 _Th-they're not all ugly, Dino!_ I always found it amusing she'd so desperately compliment people we all don't like. And, like, her brothers who're mean to her: classic Harei. I really wanna hug her now. But... I got settled... and Lone's a burglar... _N-no, please don't get up again, u-ummmm, it's no big deal, anyways... They just... most of them didn't like me all that much, because they were all rough and I wasn't. Eh?_ Weirdo. I smirk at her. She shies away and the guilt piles up on me. Whoops. _They all... heheh... didn't like me, I guess. Oh well... ummm... but, but! Pleaaase don't give me that loook! Um... I had a sister who was nice... a sister carchar... I'd like to meet her again one day... heh..._

 _Aaaawwww. This where your crush on girls came from?_

 _D-D-D-DIIIINOOOOOOOOOOOOO! AAAAHHHHHH!_

But I let her go on, and Harei gets really into her talk. Trying so hard to capture the description of a vivosaur whose name still slipped from her mind, one she loved so very very much—my gosh, you and your precious older sister—who looked out for her like... like... like a mom. Good for you. Apparently my golden ourano's the youngest child out of her crazy number of siblings, and while most of them scare the heck out of her, she does have the one. So I guess that's what matters in the end. She's so engrossed within her topic that, even as the sun rises, I don't feel a need to... pick up my blankets and cover myself from it. Right now, I'm happy in the sun.

Droplet's half awake and eying my whipped cream. I'm gonna hurt her if she takes a finned step in the air. Snorting, she rubs her head against the ground and continues drooling while she's still sorta sleeping, so I ignore her and slurp the cloudy whiteness on top away while pretending her glacial orbs haven't split right open. This is fun. It's a sweet, creamy, sugary sensation—one rich but not too rich, simple and yet comfort. I like it. It's not Jkonna sweet—well, if you'd call _her_ sweet—sorry Jkkie love you—but I don't mind. Curiously, my head roams sidelong, and while I'm busy ignoring Droplet and the memories from earlier, the door cautiously creaks itself open. In pops the great doc himself, Daddy Diggins. Turquoise hair, halt-bent glasses, in all his lab-coated glory. His room's stuffed in papers and bones and dust, so it takes him a moment to travel over for the table in the corner with the chair. He turns past his stuffy couch smushed against the wall, a longer but shorter table shoved with it, and eventually he shimmies his way up to me. It's like rock-climbing.

"Dino!" he calls, because we're totally not in the same room and I totally won't hear him fine. Pippy loudly snores from his other half of the table, the rest of his body twitching and Diggins fails at rounding bits of scales and brown. His sorta-deep voice, a little wizened and a little bruised on the edges, but worth its every bit of mirth, catches like a song in my head. It's a nice tune, one I'd like to save and cherish forever. Diggins has a nice voice, not that I'm telling. Again he calls, "Dino..!" as he makes his way beside me, patting my head like I'm a good boy.

Am I a good boy? Great question.

I'm afraid he's always gonna tower over me; but Dad, my actual dad, will always beat him. It's just the mysterious way of the world, all that. Oh, and Jkonna's way shorter than me, so she ruins the domino effect.

"How do you fare?" he goes on, asks something else. I kinda slouch in my blankets without letting them fall, which almost works until the bitter end as their flaps peel and I freak out and gather them all together for me again. "I take it that... perhaps... Hmm..." He's scrutinizing me. But because he's Diggins and I trust him, I don't put up much of a fight. Like, uh, cover his eyes or something. Those turquoise chips that so perfectly match with Vivian's own. "You'll be okay, Dino. I'm sure you're not all that hurt."

I groan. "Yeeeeessssssss! I am not all that hurt! Gooossssssshhhh." It's Jkonna who... needs all the... um... attention. She's the one who took the brunt of the beating. I just got slapped into a wall by an ice hand. She's the one who... was thrown underwater by the thing inside of her—the Thomas inside of her—and had to resurface from the bottom of the sea all by herself. Thankfully, this is around the point where... well, it wasn't Foster, but this other orange and long-necked creature swam around and chattered at me like I was a jerk and swam under for her. I caught the words _Idiot_ and _Annoying_ pretty easily. Whatever happened, looks like she made it; and that's around the time our actual vivosaurs found us, too. Foster was being quiet. I usually don't care about him that much but, like, he didn't even yell at Bliss when she yawned in his face. And Droplet's used to him tagging onto her bad jokes.

He was very quiet. I wonder why. He'd stayed back for a little bit, too; as we managed to get to land and hobble on our way home, sand booting our feet and fins and claws and Lone's webbed toes, he took his sweet time. Even stayed with that other futabi who floated around with him and Droplet on land, as... she... I swear it was a she... got Jkonna on her merry way. Maybe they knew each other. Maybe it was just some crazy futabi premonition.

Yet it doesn't... _feel_ like it.

"..no? Dino? Did you pay attention to any of that?"

"What? UH! Put on the spot! UMMMM!" I splutter some random nonsense. "Forty-two!"

Snorting, he shakes his little unkempt pile of turquoise hair. "No, no! I asked you if you felt, yourself, that you were recovering. I had this whole explanation for what might be going on within you. Goodness, boy. Well, I suppose if you weren't listening, it doesn't matter that much. So? How _do_ you feel? Nothing too bruised or broken, I daresay?" What. Oh. Oh yeah. Bruises. Getting beat up. Frozen throats. Ow. Um.

For a moment I look off into the sun. It's been doused by some milky coils of fogs, now. Completely taken over. I wonder at this. Am... am I feeling okay? Gosh, this reminds me of everything I've gone through by now... all those little adventures and all the people whose lives I've entangled with. It's fun, thinking of it that way. Little shoe rainbows spilled all over my life. Each one... helps me grow a little more. It's just even more obvious now: how much I wasn't feeling it compared to how... I almost.. maybe I... no, no. I do. I do feel fine. Uh, I'm alright... Not cracked or split or broken... pretty sure my foot's intact, even after I kicked the chair over, unless it was my tail which also isn't broken, although not to mention a bedding of bruises sorely coating my entire sense of self. Hesitant now, I raise in my chair, peering through mussed hair, and mumble, "Yeah, I'm fine...

"Ooh—oh—but what about Jkonna? Is she... faring? Uhhh... Nothing too... whatever you said... daresay?" Geez, I remembered that much. Gimme a break.

Lazily in the corner, Droplet lets me know that I didn't have to try to repeat him in the first place. One of her eyes, sure, hazy, has managed to wriggle its way out into the world, but only one, so that I can't tell if she's blinking, trying to ward off tears, or actually trying to wink at me. Her snout glimmers in this sort of laughter.

Diggins gets me focused back on him. He scours the messy room for a moment and almost gives up on finding himself a chair when he nearly trips over one—"Gaahh!"—and thus convinces me to scoot so we share the space—"Dino, _be good_!"—so that we're all comfy and dandy. It's this quiet murmur in the back of his head that diverts me to where his vivosaurs are: his beloved stego, green and spiny, named Morrisio, and of course Tramp the crazy aopteryx himself.

Finally settled, I scoop my cup in my hands, managing to stay warm even at this time and without any of my vivosaurs being fire. Old and faithful. Thus, Diggins clears his throat and smiles a bright smile on a dark and tired face toward me. It's a little hopeful. "I'm sure you know by now that Jkonna and I have known each other for quite a few years at this time. It's funny... my friend that I was mentioning, the short one, Joe, he had a 'daughter' or 'sister' or some like that too..." Eyes glazed, I snort to myself. Diggins gets off track quickly. I wonder if I should do something about this, but he shakes his head and glances back for me. "Either way, it's not important right now." Yep, sure it isn't.

"I can't help but worry about her a lot—and you, too, that is. The both of you scramble into the rowdiest of affairs!" Softly, he laughs at this. So I know he's not about to lecture me about being "carefuller" again. It happened once. Let's not go back to those days. I wanna be good... "But I suppose you can't help yourselves. It's who you are, as of now, in the least! You have yet to find the place you want to stay in... who you want to be..." His eyes all glazed again, I swear for half a second I do know what I want to do—it's this beautiful, glorious, happy and warm feeling altogether tied within me, a birthday present that's been saved for months, wanting to be cherished as long as possible until the last second. It's... _belonging_. But then it's gone. Whatever.

In his reliable Diggins rumble, he murmurs on after adjusting his glasses; "You have a fiery heat too that just won't go out: not that that's any sort of bad thing. It's just... who the two of you are. I'm afraid I don't know anyone who can keep up with you other than the one or the other!" He laughs again; only it's softer. My cup burns in my hands. I sip at it a little tentatively and nearly spew it over his lab coat. Oh my gosh, why is it so hot? I just barely tapped at it... how long's it been sitting there? Not even including when Lone spat all over it... "Could you tell me what exactly happened, Dino? It might... help with understanding... er..."

Y-yeah... Jkonna's condition... I know. How do I do this. Oh gosh. Heart in my throat. I glare at my hot chocolate because now it's the evillest creature in the room, far as I can tell. Pippy sleep-snorts at that, nearly knocking over a stack of nearby papers. My eyes suddenly attached to mountains, I mumble to the ground, "Uh, yeah, stuff happened... ummmm... lotsa stuff happened, y'see... uhhh..." Gosh, it's like there's a block of ice in my throat. I can't talk around it. What the heck... um... "Sorry!" I end up squeaking.

It reminds me of that face Jkonna made when I apologized to her earlier. She'd blown up some, brown cheeks tinged in pink, her square jaw screwed up a little. Surprised. Diggins does that now, too; they're practically identical. Really are like... father and daughter. Heh, what a shame that it's not actual relation... but I guess it counts close enough.

Smiling, he whispers, "What is it with you now, Dino? You've changed... bit by bit... You're forgiving, understanding... mmm." Uh, yes? I am? Cool? I don't know? Twitching a little, I look away. Embarrassed. Thoroughly embarrassed. But then my eyes just plaster that image of Jkonna's face into my head, half of chocolatey skin still rippling in a ghostly bluish-white, one of her eyes still closed when she thinks she can see out of it. It's warmer in the other room. She can see fine now. But at that time... My stomach jolts in place and I try to calm it with more cocoa but it's even hotter now. I splutter again.

"I'd watched over her in many hard times... Ha, it's hard to believe that now she's got a friend in you to look out for her too." Oh, he's talking again. Wait. Wasn't I supposed t—wait... My gaze snaps over the windows again, sorry Diggins which means not paying attention to you, eyes glistening at that fog. I'm forgetting something... kinda crucial... oh my gosh, oh my gosh, _my gosh._ For the life of me I can't remember a dot of it.

Droplet snarls completely out of nowhere from the other side of Diggins's... work room. Sorta. She shakes her dribbling head as waterfalls of drips cascade upon her, shrinking as she goes to maneuver easily. Her finned self splats loudly on the table as she slowly squishes Pippy's face off of it, giving herself more room to glare at my cup. Oh hey, we're on the same team. _Dino! Sh-shut up! Of course we're on the same team!_ She's quiet again, but not for long. _Something feels compleeetely wrong. Ugh! And yet I can't put my fin on it... hmmmmmnnnnnngg..._ While she's busy glaring at the drink in my hands, I start to pull it toward my lips again. _DINO! DON'T DO THAT! WHAT ARE YOU, FIVE?_

 _Sorry, sorry._ I let it hit the table, but gently. A curious hissing noise fills our homey chamber; when I pull the cup off its spot, there's a simple ring of its bottom sitting there. _What. What the turd,_ she whispers, and my own voice starts to follow hers. _What the turd indeed..._

Diggins looks over. "Huh. Dino, I swear you didn't have any fire vivosaurs, and last I checked, Bomba was warming Jkonna through the blanket... How are you holding that cup fine? Lemme—" I think I'm getting a bad feeling about this for good reason, swerving back out of his way.

"Dino!"

"But! But! Daddy Diggins!"

"Dino, let me touch the cup!"

"But but but but! Bad premoniiiitiioooooonnnnnnss!"

"It's just one cup!" His lashing fingers manage to just brush over the cusp of cup and air; only for him to cry out, "WHOA!" He splutters, his finger obviously throbbing and Droplet scuttles over to try and help him with that, giving the burn of the cup in the table a wide-as-possible berth until she falls off with a yelp. She ends up climbing up Diggins's legs and slapping his hand between two of her gloppy, blue fins.

"Dino, how are you still holding onto that demented thing? Do you have a fever? Hypothermia! Dino, don't tell me you actually are sick!" Feverish with the thought of it, his free hand quickly slaps over my forehead. Awkward ticking seconds pass; finally a sigh. "No, no, you're fine. Thank goodness it's not you... I'd rather keep you feeling well now, after... that..." We'd rather not give it a name. But satisfied I haven't accidentally killed everything, he ruffles my head again and sighs. "Strange, though... there must be a... cause of..."

His gaze falls into the windows. I wince at the sight of those bags under his eyes. Well, yeah, we did show up in the middle of the night, everything dark and spooky and he was sleeping until our knocks brought him back, but he still hasn't gone to sleep yet? It's been some day or so now... I guess there's been a few times where I've been up that long... but, gosh, I can't help but think for him. His turquoise eyes betray just how tired he isn't. Because he's not. His body sure looks taxed, but I guess he can't get himself to go to bed just yet. Too much going on for now in his Center. Aw...

Finally, he asks me, not even looking toward anything else: "Dino... weren't you going to tell me what happened to the both of you? I believe we got sidetracked from that..."

The shadows condense around us. I cough, try to focus on the sun that I can't see outside to. It's so foggy... For some reason, it brings those futabis back to mind; I trust they're, uh, doing okay. Gah. Uh. Focus. Focus. Wait. I wasn't able to say it last time, and then I forgot... _Ummm... Droplet? Can you tell him? I don't think I..._

 _Hrr? Yeah, of course!_ She splutters off and tries to explain the dilemma that was me _going crazy_ or whatever that was and me and Jkonna being _covered in bruises and sand_ and of course that _egg-shaped chamber_ and finally... finally... I can't think about it. Can't even say it, even if I wanted to—and I don't. I don't wanna think about that turd. Snowballs of pterabumps spread over my scaled body, even under the layers of blankets and the cup in my hand, the one that tried to burn through a table. There's not a speck of water outside from this view, but even so, in the foggy horizon, I just feel like, if we open the windows... that futabi will show up...

Gah. I shake my head. There's... other worries hacking away right now.

We wait in our silence. It's not bad, or harmful, or scary. It's only a little quiet. But we're all here. We're all here...

"Di...no..?" whispers my mentor and one of many guardians and friends. I slowly glance up toward him, suddenly very scared. A flush of ice goes rumbling in me, an avalanche about to fill me. The heat of the cup seems to disappear. "Could you do me a favor... and check what medals you have on you..?"

Um... sure?

Since I don't really have that dinaurian necklace—been refusing to wear it, ha—I've just been keeping them behind my ears. Yeah, whatever, call me a hobo. It works well enough, two on each side. Hesitant, heart pounding mad in my chest, I begin the journey of raising each hand to each ear, quickly proffering my now-icy hot chocolate on the table. They're orange and triangular, and flabby in the right places. When I check in the back, like earrings, my heart stops.

Two.

It's a little hard to talk now, but still, still, I can't bear but whisper. "Why are... they're..."

My thoughts go hurtling for my redheaded best friend.

It's hard to summon words for this very new feeling living inside of me.

 **Me: Eheh.. yeah, kinda short chapter. There'll be a few others like this, too :3 Two of them are even shorter... heheh.  
So I was checking the content I have to get in and what kinda chapters they'll be in and stuff, and I learned that actually the story should have around 39 chapters.. when I was expecting around 35... TTwTT there goes four weeks of writing my upcoming stories~  
But I do love this one, so it'll be okay.**


	30. Rt: Agony

**Me: Hooray, Rupy gets another chapter!**

 **Rupert: ...I would be grateful if you refrained from calling me—**

 **Todd: RUUUUPYYYYYYYYYYYY! -jumps at him-**

 **Rupert: -brushes him off and turns back-**

 **Todd: ;w; but but but but Ruuuppyyyyyy**

 **Rupert: ._.ll**

 **Torn: -GEEZ, RUPERT, AT LEAST FUCKING TRY TO TREAT HIM WITH RESPECT.-**

 **Rupert: -sighs- Torn.**

 **Torn: -DAMN, YOU'RE SO RUDE.-**

 **Dina: A-aaaaahhhh... -tightly hugs him, eyes full of tears because she digresses-**

 **Torn: -...shit.-**

 **Todd: HAAAAA TAKE THAT TORN**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 30: Agony

 _Rupert_

Slices of night through great windows effectively have snuffed any and all hope of light from this dreary chamber. The cushion beneath me, silent, just as all else, does little to comfort me. None gives any chance of comfort to me. Though I doubt I deserve such trifles, looking back at who they are and what they have done. Leaving me in such array. I sit here, my legs over the edge of the voluminous bed, blankets entangling casually with the rich material of the white-and-red-striped pants. My hands, stuffed into a colorless comforter of some drab design, tug at the covers as if they will offer me any sort of strength. Empty, I suppose. I feel empty here. My eyes slowly, dutifully, painfully drag across etches of shadows thronged of materialistic objects, tangible pieces I could hold to myself if I wished.

Worthless. All of it.

Supposedly, as I truly believe, it is my fault, and it is what I would deserve, this position and this shame, this pain. It could never be hers: so pure, her glowing heart and her beauty... it could never be hers, never. Sleeping problems conveniently frequented me throughout the doors toward my life; this is nothing unusual in relations to times back then. Alone. This feeling, this sensation, this placement in my life: lonely. The vivosaurs entwined with me sit placidly in misshapen stacks of two and two, spilling without care toward the edge of the walnut chest. When my eyes, my soul, glitters over it, I see naught but its shapeless figure cut into some shadowy, forgotten form. I wish I could leave this place and find myself where my heart truly desires to be; but they called it "not allowed;" they called her "unsafe." So must I wait here? Must I stay like this in these open, spacey quarters without any feeling left ebbing in me? Must I stay alone? A cold trickle of senseless notion creeps in me, cold and empty, heartless. I cannot feel it beating in me, though I also have yet to check. I care not. Listless, I stare across this chamber of mine and narrow my orbs at what I can, at these lifeless figures.

Never did I sleep well on my own... and yet here I am now, rounding in this similar situation, mirrored circumstances: I... bloody... hate this. But I must stay. Must I stay? They told me not to leave. It would be "safe" here. Safe. I spit at the word. What is this "safe" they wish to define for me? They do not understand me... although I suppose, in another way, I cannot understand myself, either. I would rather not color myself on the topic. I never felt all such importance bearing me. Because, simply, I am not. Feelings began to change, to unwrap in my heart, a chilling layer _crink-crinkling_ off of my icy barrier, one I pulsated so far into me I had lost all sight of my own self. And when I had her, when she was with me, her hands warmed me where they touched, her eyes filled me where they looked, her smile... her lips... saved me. So how, now I ask, did I find myself here?

No. I dislike the thought of it, so I discard it tidily. It stays with me; they all do; but I would rather fold it and keep it away from this small circle of self I still seem to contain. I still seem to... to exist. My... no... not "mine" in any way but the creature I called "Father" toiled and toiled with this soul of mine, and very nearly succeeded in this loss, but she managed to save me, she held me and took me away from him, and never, now I see, do I have to come near such a _thing_ again. Dina... she calls me "kind," perhaps only through interaction with her could I be deemed such a feeling, such a connotation, but still does it exist. Kind... Staring through blurry, strained emotions toward a featureless carpeting, I feel as if I may cry. Rather would I not, but the sensation remains there, tingling betwixt my shady yellow orbs.

Winds howl, just the slightest, outdoors, like a stirring. The tip of a start of a galvanization, one to surely string and empower the world to barrel all of the wind it can contain into the chillier, mountainous regional kingdom of the north. Kind and fluffy as these Nomadistan creatures seem, they... they still...

My face burns as I choke over the words. Compose yourself, I wish to tell, to repeat, to hide these feelings from any poor fool to stumble in here, for my door I have left unlocked, the vain hope of a returning point. But it is... it is who I am. These emotions, they are me. They fill me. They move me, they form me, they enact as the boy who owns them, and he owned by them. Feelings derive and attack me, moment upon moment upon moment, after I began to open myself up into the world. An understanding reclaimed me at one point, that I could either forsake these new-found feelings and leave their buds to die... or I could give them light, I could give them nurturing, I could let them grow within me. Perhaps it would be detrimental to give all thoughts in my head first in comparison to who I hold dear to me, but I do, I must seek to her... for guidance sometimes. We... find help in each other.

I could not dream of letting these budding feelings go now. To give... care to them... It is hard to believe for an injured soul like me, but I... wish to live. I wish to hold onto the one who gives me joy and to explore this life, her hand in mine. She calls me "kind;" and now I wish to be that, to be... kind. To give more consideration to others. Yes, I understand... I show that boy Todd my dissatisfaction when he steps boundaries, but I am growing... I am learning to be who I wish to, who I am meant to be. I wish not to harm him, not anymore, and not again, either. Involuntary whispers in my head see me searching toward the discs just below the window in the chamber, somehow hit with just a tap of light on one side. We came for a tournament, we came together... I doubt, even if Dina recovers, even if... _she_ leaves her be, that I could bear this thought of fighting much longer. Unless I must, unless—gruesome images cross over my mind—she is harmed, unless there is some vile presence permeating her. Reconciled, should I feel, to lift my vivosaurs and ask them to save her.

Save her, guard her, hold her tight, keep her away from the dark which blights, trying to touch their fingers of hate on beautiful ones I found in great fate. Wings of crescents like shadows sear over this chamber, shun it of any sense of this feeling I once held dear to me, one so close and yet held out of my reach.

I like it... how words can connect, creating whispers over the tongue, producing beautiful, sweet little nothings. I like how certain words sound together; I like... I like... to say her name. Dina...

In a single gliding motion, I lift myself from this fickle bed, placing feet on a grounding I can hardly feel beneath me. My breath flows in small, swirling motions from my lips to the air; I think of her, where she may be, if the view is any at all nice or if they left the windows open for my poor Dina. Cold outdoors, frigid temperatures spiral into any carelessly unlocked and opened bedchambers left for naught toward this outdoors. Nomadistan creatures, coats thick and fluffy, could withstand the chills easily, but Dina... she is not.. she... please do not let her be alone out there, wherever they took her. The thought of her cradled into a corner, by herself, no less than a guard at the least to keep watch, one she could speak with through wooden barriers—please, at the least, let there be another soul to look out over her. She does not deserve the purgatorial thought of loneliness, to be separated, soul straddling lines and growing further and further lost, away from any source of light... My heart pules, twists, at such a thought belying her.

As a quieter person, others speak loud and boisterous over their own feelings, and I listen, and their snippets I take in my hands, and I can hold them, feel them, remember them, sunny shrill cries, even when they do not. Only in repentance I tend to stray the edges, to refrain from speaking myself. Even so, my voice... soft, like a whisper. I dislike yelling and find it discourteous. Loud noises scare Dina as well... She prefers the sort of softness I seem to find I tender; and yet in a breath of concurrency I find I as well can fend off others in a shield of ice they would rather not come in contact with. Which I understand. Thoughts of the man my mother somehow loved draw just in corners of my head; I shake them off strongly. Perhaps he is the one to enforce those barriers upon me. I trust that as I... spend more time with her—as I must—she will assist in this healing of these wintry wounds with her heart of spring. Flowers fill her sweet, gentle soul.

One step aids me closer to one of four walls surrounding me, one step swinging my back to be of which faces the blinding night from outside. Snowflakes, little frosty soldiers, have been gliding; I would prefer not to see them. Not to see the cold, glittering moon, lackluster in all but its cruel gleam. These little things surround me, little spots of despair that are easy to see in patches across me. Little patches I wish to hide, to mend, to seek a way of appeasement, to draw out long thorns of suffering of soft white roses. I prefer it this way: in the least preoccupied with my own shadow other than the ones lurking. The air in this castle tastes gentle of a sweet warmth, addled by a frozen, yet affable scent, one permeating and lingering in each of the dorms and corridors. Dominated by these things, I move slowly and gently around this bed, my eyes without tire glancing listlessly, carelessly over a shameless wrinkle or so that would ceaselessly catch the eye of—

And no. I am not... that. I am not. I refuse to ever... be. She has shown me and changed me and now she is gone, this tyranny in my heart which cries out what kind of tart, cruel tart would take her away. She is not dangerous, none could ever see a spot of her aching to harm—only the monster inside of her, _she_ has caused this. If only I could ask her to flee the body of this lovely girl and, if it must be so, take me, so in the least she is not the one to suffer—none as she deserves such a fate.

Slowly. It takes time. I need time, if I ever wish to change. And I do. Each day, small morsels of change afflict me, give me chances of a new birth of who I wish to become in actuality. Instead of gelid, distant reigning in a cloud of thunder and ice that toils and consumes me, I wish for a softer self, a softer shell or a smaller shield—still a shell, so that I may protect her, but not a thorny wall enabling me access denied from any and all beings, including the likes of the vivosaurs I carry around with me. Mistress. Her name is Mistress, the one I first took ownership of, the one my mother crowned me with prior to her unfortunate and premature death due to the disgraceful second half of the reason I exist today. This man somehow never touched her or sought her, but even as she sought me I could not oblige. My walls too thick, too cold, too strong and thorny and ghastly creations. Now she is let in, and I wish others to be let in as well... and I must keep her beside me... for I cannot bear the thought of... the thought of...

Agony. Is that not a way to preach of it? These feelings wedged inside of me that bustle and beg and betray me in the earnest need of she, much more kind and sweet and simply greater than my own weaker, blundering self. Even as I learn, even as she learns... but she...

Her face swims before my eyes, a mist I cannot quite reach, intangible to breach. Bright and lovely lilac eyes, a tiny, hopeful little grin over soft and pearly silver skin, scales of white and orange and purple dotting among her body, whimsical trails of autumn hair, a peachy hint echoed in yet again the company of such silver flair. I wish I could call her... mine. My... Dina. My sweet, little Dina... She lies in these shadows so far from me, palpable that she struggles to hold her eyes open, terrified of her nightmares seeping into reality yet again, terrified of the _she_ inside of her... claiming for _her_ self. Monsters. They lie in perpetual wait, lounging with their thick, matted faces and beady little eyes... they show up where they do not belong, for that is why they are monsters in the first place. They care not who it is... not even if their host may be the slight girl who struggles to smile so that her day may even hold the smallest of bits of honey-colored light, light she should be bathed in.

The question, because it must, carefully ties itself into my head. I can hear it, unbearable, hiss to me, Why, why this creature must be assumed that it shall be a detriment other than the pain it shall bring most certainly to Dina. Other than her perpetual chaos, what gives her such a name? What defines this as Monster? These answers should be obvious, and yet, I wonder: what if... she is not so bad? What if she helps me? Still... _she_ took her away from me... and that I shall not forget, no matter how many years in the future I shall go on for. This stipend even depending upon these moments. She has been changing me, has been gifting and plucking flowers of her kindred spirit, has been whispering of bright little notions of hopes, even in her own nadirs and crises. Quite.. remarkable, I find it. Her flaws, her clumsiness and general fear of others, her disliking to be away from those few who have accepted her, the way she never calls a soul out in their own mistakes... I... how do I describe... how well I understand, of course she is not perfectly smooth but assorted in her own nicks from living, and how much I... adore the flaws she does have... how much I wish to assist her in her failures and accompany her when she is afraid, to keep her safe as much as I possibly can... always... to be her... her... guardian...

Yes, there are others in her life as well... fine others who must as well wish to watch over her, to protect her... just like I, here... and yet this presumptuous thought engulfs me in this yearning depth of chaos—how blindingly I wish to take her hand and lead her away just as she has done for me in a miraculous rainbow of ways. My mind, distilled, again ripples of whispers, thoughts, pictures of her, smiling or crying or pulled close to me, whispering, laughing, my heart flying in this sense of... this feeling of... ah...

Tears like that of gunk, shadows, a suffering blackness one cannot even attempt to live in, rattles from the windows. Eyes pruning, I refuse to turn, to see what sort of art might be flimsily streaking upon the walls, what sort of fictional chimera may be lying in wait, in laughter, notorious laughter for me. In a strange sense of awe and panic, I wish one of the vivosaurs of my dear would be nearby; she pours such... truly... love—love she pours into them and nourishes them in, and their odd and yet silly—silly embodiments bring forms of torture a new light, a new hope. They are filled to their depths with her; oh, how I miss her... so soon, so easily, so quickly I miss her, cannot cope without her... This bed, this room, this life is empty and hollow without her presence. She has changed me... and she has helped me in ways not another soul could help me with... and to think of it—now she has gone...

A new sense of unbearable. Slowly my feet shuffle over an earth I do not even try to lift my feet from and rest my hands upon the chair she had sat in, the dresses Todd had told her to take alongside the one she already wore... the flouncy, soft pink, childish and sweet... Subconsciously my fingers rub over the small line of glistening white buttons from my throat to stomach, where this undershirt to my elbows lies. White... like the roses. She wore my coat when they came. Never would I dream of taking it in that moment. The whites of her eyes showed like stars as the stomping and the knocking overtook the whispers we had shared moments prior to this new sense, this new feeling. This awful, forsaken feeling inside of me... she has been taken from me... Not only did I not wish of this but she as well... she as well... I think of her, and I wish for the nimble courage to take me and shake me and tell me what I am doing wrong, how to find a new sense of righteousness, how to find _her,_ so that I may see her, again.

It reminds me of... him. My... father, as he... is, as much as I feel, as strongly as I know, against such a fact. It makes me wonder, so casually in this darkness of night, this nadir of a peak I have fallen into, what Trikko may think. The tricera. Unearthly heaving stout body of pastel cyan and red, a porcelain teapot through and through, may he be seen as. He... loves his "facts." Which he calls them. Which must be true in some way, shape, or form or another. These facts I refuse to believe.

My mind clots in the thought... the troublesome thought of Mistress, and where she may stand at this time. I wonder, if I were to pluck her sparkling sapphire medal and if she were to waken at the probe, to gently creak and display me her bedazzling amethyst orbs, her royal spines shadowing over that one eye and down her back of royal blue: if I were to ask her what she thought, what may she say? The mapo queen I have owned of yet for a great sense of time. She evolved to this stance from simple mapo with that nycto ace, Nyra, of Dina's. Everywhere I look, every cranny I search, her name always finds me, and, head bowed and facing this bottom of this random, elaborate chair, I whisper it to me. Would it be wrong for me to yearn for her... to yearn to be with her... this much..? Is it wrong if I with to take care of all of my time with her by my side? Is it so wrong?

Why..? Why is she gone..? Why did they take her away from me..? Why did they think this was "better..?"

A moment cuts me into a sort of limbo where I realize I can still stop them from falling or let them go, let it go... let her know, if only she was not left in this truant state, just how much... she means to me. It hurts, in my throat, in my heart, it aches, it reverberates, this new pain, but as I breathe and I try to let my breaths flow smoothly instead of this jagged outbreak, little blips of black soak at hit, _plip_ , the cushion. One, two, three, five, six, eight, ten. Ten little droplets—and counting... Each one, as it falls, I watch the clear, delicate, innocent tear roll from my cheek and into the oblivion of the night, soaking into that pitiful chair as it hits, _plip_ , again, and again, and again. Soon I realize I could not cease it even if I pored my intent into this little task: my emotions have taken root... they truly have... Even with this blackness, this dreary, horrible sequence of events surrounding me and waiting for my reaction... I feel... pure. These... these... feelings inside of me... they are alive.

When I do try to move, I see that I was quite right, and sloppy tears still slide from my grip. But I let them go. Let them fall where they wish. I blink in free moments, struggle to catch sight, and as I turn, try not to focus on any sort of windows over the back walls which I have stopped caring of. It has come noticeably harder to catch insight in this room, my eyes squinting and yet still quite unable to detect the shapeless materials lying around this floor. My foot harshly hits against one of such things; I merely shake myself and move in. It is not so serious. I can walk. I will be _fine_. It is not I that matters... I dislike thinking of myself—I think for her... for her... and I wish that... I wish... maybe... she would... her mind might... at times... think of me. The blush is burning upon my cheeks and again I let these emotions be, let them bloom inside of me. They hurt, they stab, in a sense, as the roots dig in and they begin to form... but I accept them, and I am glad they have come.

Gently I pull these gloves from my hands, their cloths perhaps befuddling the existence of my skin, somewhat marred, beneath, but when I see her, I wish to feel her with my own touch. Not that of meaningless, brooding material. I toss them lightly upon a dresser, leaving them discarded in a tidy proportionate formation. Then I leave them be.

Rumblings in the distance signal of nearby thunder. My heart jolts softly at this, in slight dislike of the sound. Lighting, in a thin, wiry strip, illuminates the empty chambers and makes it all the more obvious that I am missing, missing what I cannot bear to lose. Words I cannot explain harm me, cut me, deeply into my veins, into my bone, into the very essence of me, whispering, murmuring, shouting, thundering, that she is missing and I cannot stand with this. And I cannot. These _guards_ of this _palace_... this _guard_ of this _home_... Ah. Just like him... I find myself unsurprised at this notion, that it is just like him. Usurped by these thoughts and feelings, like flowers, rustling and beginning within me, germinal seeds finally learning on their own how to take root again, by her, how to save me, my eyes dart for the door opened just at a crack, in the vain hope she would return on her own to me, and the understanding shadow of not doubt but truth, that she... cannot. They have perished her means... and if anything she wishes to obey them. To listen to what others tell her as they wish of her.

But this is not what I want of her. This is not what I could bear see happen to her. She deserves none of this—none of what has occurred and, my bare, socked feet frenetic in their search for the door, I must act upon this. Something I can truly do now, I can change what I... what I find wrong in this placement... what I cannot bear to take... I care not what they have done with her; the times of my silent listening... my allowing of them to come past me and to let them do what they want in their hands no matter how cruel—no. Dina deserves none of this. I find my way through a lightless hallway beneath ribbons of feelings which lie in siege on the inside. My heart pounds faster, my feet nimbler, dodging up stairs and down flights until, gently taking in sips of breaths, I take the handle of a high floor and search down through spiraling amounts of stairs and halls and lives in this throng, and I wonder where she may be.

 _Rrrr-rrrr-rrr-rrr...rrrrrmmmm...rrmmmm...mmmm-mmm-mmmmmnnnn..._

Threatening murmurs of thunders clasp hands above my head in the frightening array of skies. I glance upwards, curious more than others, and catch in my just-as-bright eyes the sailing of lightning stark over the roof of glass. It has yet to hit the building, and I doubt it will, giving taste on how long this elegant castle has lied wait here in the mountains. Little flashes of fears protrude from within, of a royal-like mansion shoved in betwixt two impassable valley walls high enough, just high enough, for a child to see the bright white tops of freedom and snow, the petals of white roses spilling out amongst the balcony, if only desolation did not shadow the climb, and a fall so large it scared a young child out of wistful thinking that otherwise may have been tried. The balconies and layers of paths fizzle like the lightning above, only inside, on a dark night, my wondering of where, oh where, they may have locked her away. Out of most seen and likely places, I feel strongly about upwind instead of a dungeon-like retreat.

Ah—it never came to me.  
Who told them... about her illness?

My heard thunders madly at this notion, what sort of entity would let the others, the guards see and tell... how Dina felt... they could have picked it up and seen it—if the princess or her dear friend were here perhaps mercy may have been exploited. Princess Amurr... wherever she and Joanie have disappeared off to, I merely wish them safe travels—and again my thoughts flit over and around the girl I hold so dearly to me. They... felt a need to keep her... keep her somewhere "safe," as they called it, as she might put others in "danger," they so... colorfully amplified such a small... Dina. Is she scared... all on her own..? She might take liberty in the thought that at least it was her, at least nobody else has taken this fate. But I cannot take this thought with me, I cannot leave it in my pocket. I must find her. She does not deserve... None of this. Any of this.

Flashes of lightning, bouquets in the sky, piece my way across flimsy corridors of haggard brusqueness. I come to the result of placing my bare hands against the brass, metallic, chilly sensation of doors. Not would I dream of knocking on a wrongly-chosen vessel; nor letting myself into private sleeping-chambers. As well, entrances may as well be locked. I wonder, quietly, on a spot in the back of my head, whether I must leave the castle itself and its demeaning sanctuary to look into outer windows to perhaps perceive her orange curls and wetted face. Gently, so gently, would I search upon her if only I could see. Hands pressed into the door... listlessly I hope beyond hopes that if she were in the room, if she could please not be near the window, unlike my other false hope, and come near the door... somehow sense me... I wish...

In the end I come to drop my fruitless expedition and scull further along the runny rows of redundancy. A piece of me carefully takes in the futile position I am in, but I cannot dream of ending this excursion. If nothing else, it again fills my hollow body in the touch of reason, the warmth of feeling, the... this... The thought comes rigid to me, and, again blushing, I discard the thought. Dina, how I... care of her. I wish she does find me... a part of her she wishes to... keep, that I amount to one she can... yes, that... Hopeless, I dodge pillars from the edges and railings from the sides, obliging further for doors. Ah, when the time comes, maybe instead I will hear her, and enable myself to tell her spot there. It is fact of she herself that tears come naturally to her, as do all other emotions. She frets, at times, these leech poisonously, that her emotions come to harm others by their extent of "annoyance," but I could never see such a thought there. She is... perfect how she is. I understand and accept her flaws, her fears and her failures; I... she is precious to me as she is.

Upon crossing the lengthy hallway I recognize, my body seizes for just a split moment in sight of that chair. Bedraggled, dropped, slanted to one side, on the ground and curled round itself with no other object of comfort; a new sense of fear begins to flutter about from within. All of these fears of her and where she may... Stepping over the useless utensil without any sort of caution for myself, I take no note as one of my toes stubs against the surface and search again for any sight of her. If somehow all of this was simply denounced to a game Todd may—no. No. He may pretend to show feelings for Dina, well aware of how... possessive this brings me, but he would not take such an added effect. This is not of his doing. So I pass he—and Pauleen—by.

Up another flight again. My hair of soft white aimlessly moves with me. I can see it in the corner of my always-moving gaze, like a wintry landscape that never can I escape. No matter how I see of it, the remembrance of what... she thought of it... No, no. None of this is for me. I must... Dina... She must be around here somewhere. Todd must have the smallest of voices in their Doglish Council—or however they decided to go into this plan. She could not have been... tossed out. My heart nearly loses itself in the thought of such a vile... No, no. I would know. They took her upstairs when they left. Seeing it now, I suppose it was a furthermore thought-out idea to let them take her in the beginning, so that they would not find me offensive in some—

None of that matters in the slightest. Dina... precious Dina... wished to see her friends... so we came. And yet they... and yet they... My breathing jagged, my hopes hitched, stitches in a multitude of exasperated feelings decorating my tiring figure, all I truly understand at this time is how badly I need to see her again. How strongly I cannot bear the knowledge that I am without her. This gaping pitch of loneliness into a tumbling abyss, something, how something is amiss if I cannot see her and feel her here with me. It is a strange sort of panic, of loss, of fear that she will not... be there for me. Is she... lonely..? Wishful thinking. But it is as I plea. It would be presumable her vivosaurs stayed with her; in a shudder, I wonder if that would be allowed for her to hold onto. Perhaps docile Aladee or, apologies, the blind and deaf Reyna, even kindly Nyra or logical, stout Trikko, but the rippling essence of blue flames that never leaves her side idle and further contaminates her, that cussing tornado of sometimes nuisance who cares so deeply of her... what would they say to that? Oh, dear; where may that scoundrel be? Surely they might be suspicious of quite the dimetro?

I stumble over shadows I have already walked as my head pounds to the tempo of each step. Longing, I suppose, for a chance to see her, to find her. Only I have no clues and no insight, and never did I, other than the vast expanse of a castle. My intuition—or a biased part of me—proclaims that they would never sack her inside of a dungeon or anywhere underground; yet still that flapping part, that mindless whisper entrenching me in the back of my head is entirely possible. No, they are kinder beasts, soft and fluffy mammals who certainly would not use a dungeon for a girl as sweet as she. No matter the circumstance... even if _she_ was awakening... no? I cannot understand the ways of others when I see their own reactions to this girl... this kind and loving girl.

Fitfully, I glance through flimsy, translucent glass covering those shafts of windows, seeing the blurry ink of my figure dripping sidelong from its image, a background of black soaked in rainwater and thunder smashing against these hollow openings. Somehow the glass is enough, and somehow the innards of the castle keep dry. As I pass by another narrow hallway glowing in the gloom, I hesitate for a moment long enough to see myself. My hair lay in whistling strands about my gently-panting body. My skin, pale in most areas and clotted by little white scars like bandages over my hands, brightly shines like that of a ghost. The buttons upon my undershirt shine very gently... my pants, in areas, have twisted. But this does not intrigue me. Slowly, I move toward, nose nearly connecting with the me in the mirror, until, breath swabbing against the glass, I... I see it. I really _see_ it. The feelings flashing through my mind, through my body, etched within the painstaking scroll of my heart, warm memories iced in the hurtling descent of the present. My eyes. I can see it all. None of it seems to be amiss. My heart banters roughly, tirelessly inside of me, warning me that I must continue. Not a stray look back to myself, I am off again. The tiny voice trapped inside of me lulls like a comforting little lullaby of mine, _Oh where, oh where, oh, where may she be?_

It only seems that as far as I go, the further she falls from my hands and the more painful my heart rate becomes, chugging not merrily but deathly in my tattered soul. It is I who needs her. I who begins to fear and despair without her here. I need her. I need her with me, or I am but a ghost of my desires and hopes in the world, I am but a shell of myself. Hands flowing with me, they pass and sense naught but air, and all is lost, it seems to tell me, all is lost. Through toiling depths of tantalizing pain, I only wish to ask why, why I have gone so blind as to lose her as well? Why my lips, choked upon these whispers and wracked upon these tears, cannot utter to hear, why my ears will not hear her in return, and why, oh why, have I come against myself in this fashion? Why upon hitting the pit of this nadir in the blackness of this night, why have I lost her? Why can I not be with her?

The spitting image of hysterics overflows in the burbling emotions swirling about in my soul; somehow it does not spill and I do not stop. But my feet have slowed, and my pace has dragged, and I have lost the speed I once held as a youth the mere hour-or-so prior it has taken me to run this far. Emptiness of the heart calls upon me and smiles when it sees this exasperation I can hardly concentrate on for the thoughts of the girl missing from my side. A sort of pang trills like a toll from around me; curiously when I search the glassy sky above me, the hurtling bells of rain unable to escape inwards by the panes, still it exhumes none but black. I feel just as alone as I am right now, just as alone as I have been since they took her from me. Safety, they said. Safety...

Unbearable. It has come to be unbearable to move this much anymore in the knowledge that I cannot find her, and I haplessly sink to the dull carpet floors that stare amongst me in self-righteousness. My shadow pools about me, strung in silence and tire after being so torn to follow me, as it always must. Exhaustion laggardly lingers, touching upon me as if I am some hesitant treat of its being, and it seems to wish to pour into my empty bowl and fill me, consume me, leave me with none but this inability to keep my eyes open and whisper and plead for her. It has yet to spill. I have yet to lose my will, to be quenched by the waters I fear will take me and I will lose to. A hand presses against a cool cheek, tapped and brushed in areas for old railroads of tears; I shrug it off, let it fall into my other.

It is so dark here. I could lie in wait and not a soul would see me for hours before the belated call of morning ever gets here. I wait in tired silence, knowing my fuel, usurped, shall not return, but that I remain as unable to sleep as ever prior.

Quietly, I sigh to none but myself.

 _Fuck? Wait... oh. Oh. FUCK!_

Ah? My head begins to wonder to turn; tired, I do not and stay in my sadistic position, thoughts of her all I have to warm my heart. And this call. I recognize it... Somewhere...

 _Holy. Holy—shiIT! HOLY SHIIIIIT RUPERT! FUCK! LOOK AT—yeah you're not gonna, not surprised. Whatever. I'll get in front of you. But... DAMMIT, YOU'RE FAST! DON'T FUCKING DO THIS TO ME!_

His laggard body encircles my own; piercing, purple eyes, throbbing in his fully-accepted, gaping yawn of tire blink at me. His flaming blue body, one I gave to him myself, shimmers in this new sense of dawn.

 _You look wasted,_ he mildly comments, although, not unkindly.

Sighing, I cannot quite catch his big, purple gaze. _No, not quite,_ I whisper, _merely have I kept myself awake this night, eventually coming in search of she._

He blindly whispers back, _You can't sleep at night._

A blistering silence scorns him.

 _So um... you've been... fuck. You've been up this entire fucking night, and you finally went off in search of your poor Din-Din? Uhhhh, I guess I can't say I'm not impressed. It's sort of a nice feeling, this knowing that she actually is safe with you. Fuck, hey, don't gimme that look! Humans are fucking cheap!_

It alerts me that he is yelling in a hallway through his mind and all nearby pertain a possible chance of hearing him. I do not silence him; soon he continues. _But for some reason she worries about them anyways, and for some fucking reason, looks like you do, too. Ugggghhh, I haaate how perfect you are for each other. It's shit. But... still, I suppose you've come all this way searching for her... and, hell, I've been searching for you. Because I... uhhhhh..._ Blushing Torn cheeks. I did not know such a thing existed. _I... knew you'd want to help me with this, some way or another. I'm kinda proud that you didn't just go to bed and fall asleep; uggggh, if that happened, I'd be both pissed_ and _disappointed. So I guess you made the right choice. Always good to keep Dina's Torny happy._

 _It would appear so._ He gives me the strangest look at that: big eyes over his snout, the bones of his eyebrows arched and fan over his face.

 _So um,_ he cuts himself off and goes on. _Soooooooo! She's... not in any sort of metal-bar metal-anything room, if you were wondering._ Relief wells up inside of me like no other. _I... it's kind of an obscure spot, since they... wanna keep her hidden. And FUCK. THEY LET ALL THE OTHER FUCKING VIVOSAURS LEAVE HER—UGH—FREELY BUT THEY REALLY DIDN'T FUCKING LIKE ME. DAMN BITCHES._ Worriedly, I ask Torn what he did to the guards and he chortles, giving negative results. _Nothing. I didn't damn touch them. But I... uh... called them bitches. A lot. And did try to bite one of them. So I guess it makes sense. Ughghhhhhh, Nyra's out here somewheerrrreeeee... Probably crying like shit..._

Before he has the sense to shush himself and yell at me to follow, a confusing string of events passes in his mind, giving off the... connotation of the color pink and... an extravagant image in his head of a lime-feathered bird he seems pent on adoring. Nyra.

We lumber on, I finally lifting myself as his fiery soul breathes life again into my heart. It does not reach me at first, this wonderful feeling that I will be able, in the least, to see where she is, and know she is there, and perhaps... Flashes of _her_ inside of her threaten, claws of lightning in my eyes, and the never-ending wish that I could take her place so that even if this event unfolds again, the hand of suffering would be cut away from her beautiful soul, not to ever hold her again. My steps are grand and full of a meaning I cannot comprehend, my throat choked at the thought.

It is down one flight of stairs, two. Throughout a long, demeaning hallway devoid of all light but cluttered in cleaning supplies. Cabinets and closets alike spill in our direction the further Torn goes, he proud of himself to have followed and found himself here. I suppose an oblique hallway set in the dark when I am searching frantically could be easy to miss. To... no... so I did lose her.. if not for Torn... My heart aches. Thank goodness... for this dimetro. It aches, oh, how it aches inside of me.

When we fit into the doorway of a single, wooden, almost homey scene, Torn ends his tramp. Forked tongue flickering, his eyes slant toward me. _She was crying. A shitty ton. Enough to like... embarrass Trikko, since he doesn't leak water. So... fucking... you'd better..._

Take care of her.

He cannot force the words through his contorted, teary muzzle, but it is what he asks of me most highly. To keep her from tears... and watch over her, if I can. He... he is trusting me.

 _Fuck. I said don't look at me like that. I still hate you. But she... well..._

Unable to bear the thought of it, he runs himself out of the entrance as quickly as his little legs can take him. Somehow the sight nearly wishes to laugh straight out of me. But... if I cannot remember smiling, the thought of... that... My heart aches.

A new sense of calm shadows me. My eyes only seek for she and she alone. She behind a door... which... the handle I have glazed over... a handle locked shut by that of a key. No guards loiter nearby. What if—what if she... needs a drink or food or—no. I must calm myself for now. Gently, gently, I knock upon the door.

 _Kunk, kunk..._

In mere moments, my hands pressed against this hopeless barrier, I feel this warming presence in front of me. Not quite touching, but nonetheless there. She does not even knock; her voice squishes through the wood. Muffled, sniffling, cold and dreary, " _Ruuuupeeerrrtt... Ru-ru...Ruuuupeertt..._ "

She hiccups; it almost feels as if she is in my arms again as I comfort her through her tears. How I wish.

"Dina..." It is all I can say. In my mind I can see her tears streaking her sweet little face; I can feel the sobs wracked across her body; and now the sight is even more unsightly, even more vivid, by the knowing that I can relate with her now, that I understand myself how she must feel. Heart throbbing painfully in my chest, I strengthen my voice and ask her, "Are you cold in any way?"

Immediate response. " _N-n-nooo... I-I am not. I... I-I still h-have your coat... Rupert... it i-is warm but I am afraid it is also... m-my tears—um! I am sorry!_ "

My heart aches. "Dina, do not even think of something so trivial. Do not worry." It only further embeds your presence within me. "If it's helped you while you were here, then I am pleased." I pause, although not for long; only enabled to hear her gives me a sudden urge to do all I can to fill this void with all of the feelings I can muster. "How are you feeling? What have they done?" The thought of what they could...

" _A-aaahh... Y-you worry f-for me... um... I-I am okay. It is not very bad in here. It is like all of the other rooms, but, um... a-a little bit smaller... and I... they do not want me to leave. H-heh... But o-otherwise..._ " She struggles now to hide the fact that her tears have overflowed her without realizing how easily I could tell prior.

"Dina." My voice strengthens upon each word, growing steadier and warmer throughout each sentence. "You should not be here. They are scared—but so are you, and you should not be left on your own like this." I despise this. "I wish... I wish I..."

Her words spill into my heart, her soft whisper a mere warble, cut and dried in her bleeding emotions and bleeding heart. " _Rupert..._ " She lost herself into an aching whisper. " _I-It is not safe... where I am... I-I know... b-but maybe I am scared... v-very scared—but you are safe... you are—_ "

"No..." I come to terms with my emotions and understand she will hear me... she will know, now, that I feel just the same. "Dina, no... I'm hurt... when you are. I suffer when you are... please, no. I will not feel safe unless..."

" _U-unless I-I-I am wi-with you..._ " She finishes my sentence for me, spilling off into tears. Every little sob destroys me. My throat has gone dry. " _A-aaahh... Ru-Rupert..._ "

I believe she goes on; the words miss me. Her tears stroke her cheeks and give her warmth that I am unable to provide. This missing part of my soul aches inside of me. I feel ripped, torn, stripped to nothing that I thought I could be. Her pain is my pain; her tears are my tears. She is in this dark little chamber without even Torn—even _Torn—_ to watch over her. Nothing is there for her. Nobody but—

This feeling goes without description as the blank sight of the boy she called "Fear" returns in my mind. She had no one for her and she trusted _this thing_ like a brother; and now this monster inside of her... it is again, this cycle. I need her. She is alone in there without anyone but this putrid "Fear" and here I am, on the outside, unable to open this vacuous imbecile who locked her door so nobody could come in, so that only the shadows would stay by her side. I cannot— _I will not stand for this._ No longer shall I let myself waste while she places herself in peril—or others, oh, those lines of shadowy, foggy monsters who harm her... I must... I must... I must...

Dina, please let me place the weight of your life into my hands. Please let me protect you, please let me be the one to keep your life from falling into the branches of the wicked or the sight of the foul. Give me your fears and your flaws and your failures and let me hold them tightly and tell you how proud I am of all of your wonderful, beautiful pieces of you. Let me keep you with me, everywhere one of us goes; may we never be apart. Because this feeling inside of me cannot bear to stay away from you, cannot take you being so close and yet an entire senseless, inane wall apart. I need your hands to hold and your eyes to look into, your smile to kiss... This is unbearable.

Subconsciously I feel the voice of another entity, one completely out of all classes I had ever come in experience with, enter me. For a time I am silent as I feel it coming closer and yet closer to my core and I do not stir it, have yet to touch it or prod it, giving it all that it needs to feed upon. My hands, pressed forcefully as far into the door as they can go, still nowhere near the crying body of the one I hold so dearly to me, shake, just the slightest, in acknowledgment of this. I cannot tell where Dina is or what she is saying; this is unbearable.

All I understand within this feeling inside of me is that I must be by her side, I must know she is here with me, or I will not be okay in the slightest; and nor, now I know, will she be. She... sniveling and sobbing and cold on her own in that darkness, in facsimile to the basement she was once forced to live in the skyless depths of. This knowing that we are separate, that she is trapped from me; if I was any near rest of any sort earlier this night, I am as far from such a state as can be. My mind ripples and rattles, streams of thoughts of how she must be faring flowing in and out without seam. I can hardly breathe in the extremities, much less think.

The voice begins to pour its full, weighty essence into me, my bowl holding Dina now drowned in the abyss of this inkiness. Thunder from outdoors seems to hurdle through me; only I realize, numbly, that no, this is the voice, a soft and omnipresent lumbering I cannot end my listening to, not that I ever would. It consults and constructs me, and quietly, nameless, it whispers, _We must come in._ It is all it has said for some time yet and I agree wholeheartedly in such a notion. This outdoors is unbearable; away from Dina is unbearable; understanding how lonely she must be—how lonely I am, truly—is all so numb and unbearable. The words of his are thick and slow, like honey in my head, but each one succulent as it comes and stays. I hardly am aware that my body is not fully my own any longer. I am hardly aware of the occasion for when this happened prior, and the results it had brought to mind. For now power—a power that will file me through this door and into her arms—has corrupted me. And I am pleased. Now she is closer.

Now I... I am... like her. Yes. I am. The Zoazoa inside of her... now I have one as well... now I know, now I know... as if half-asleep, my head rolls over my shoulders and softly collides into the spongy wood, not quite able to catch onto the dent I have created without hardship. My thoughts are rotted with her and my need to see her and this fear of her loneliness, which is mine, which I can claim for my own, spilling forth. It brings to mind the chair in front of the room Todd and Pauleen have overtaken. The capsized little fellow... my lips somehow manage to form her name in a rasping whisper I doubt she hears. In face, I believe... her own words have drowned me out... but which words..? I can hardly... hear them.. My head is too full... too slurred and stuffed to... catch them... and hold them... and remem..ber... them...

Words, deep and dark and... not... dangerous, I would believe... these instead, masculine, not she at all, again whisper to me. _We will open this door._ A sensation not unlike that of a waterfall crashing inside of my entire body takes heed. _And thus we shall rip an entrance through using our weapons._ My hands, in particular... _These weapons shall hold... her... indeed..._

The sweet and soft, gentle image of the scaled girl and her long, beautiful curls of autumn hair flutters alongside me. The whispering squeak of her voice tickles in my throat. Her smile fulfills me; I must... I must... Dina... Again my hands cover the door over the bends and the curves shockingly, quickly carved into it. I ponder where they originated but such a detail matters but naught. My hands, where they press, feel strangely rough with the white scars they carry: stronger, heftier, more reward than burden to show off. As I squeeze, the wood peels in turn. Think, hulking claws in a body I no longer own that protrude from hands I thought were mine splinter the simple, locked bark into pathetic ribbons. A showering of wood flits throughout the chamber within and without; none of this matters. I search only for Dina.

She was calling me... she was... I think she was calling me... But now it seems her sweet voice has died from her lips. Oh... why..? Diiinaa? Where have you gone? Diii _iiiiiiiinaaaaaaa? where aaareee yyoooouuuuuuuu?_

It takes time, but I spot her... lying on the ground..? Why must she sit like so? It looks like an uncomfortable way to fall. Thorns and spines upon a back I have lost shift uncomfortably beneath the elaborate undershirt atop them; they do not break through, and neither does the hulking mass of tail behind. It slithers beyond me and clacks against the ground with claws on toes that have obliterated the once-fuzzy once-socks once upon a pair of feet. Gristly skin comes in contact with her poor, wet cheek; splotches of leaking red touch upon me as I search over her.

A laugh that is not mine forces lungs I do not own to ache and shudder with the reverberation of such a foul thing. It stinks in the air, lighting both in and outdoors with blackness. Quickly I pull her closer to me and more of this red business leaks... Her head I try to cradle, but so many sharp points clumsily hold and cut at her... I only wish to kiss you... to kiss... Dina...

for I love you, I love you, Dina...

but even as I draw close to her, her lips are stung as well by icicles of fangs I had yet to notice.

Her body, I see, is—

D _in_ a...

A sort of horrid flash of realization takes an inkling upon me as I stand, forcefully step away from the one I hold so dear to me in as many steps as I can, and fall within lack of energy as every morsel of the entity that had fallen upon me huffily lifts itself to walk straight from my body. A fit of coughs seizes me, tears in my eyes from the tang of blood on my lips, the scent of it in the air... this sickening feeling... What I... what I have... She lies silent when I look at her. But she... she... Dust mites in the room collect into my face as the rainy tears streak me, and only does it come crashing upon me again.

I make it my duty, to, in the least, lift her—as I wince—and carry her—as I fear—and take her to where I know she will be safe, to where she fill be fine and to where I do not belong, as I pull the chair up on its last legs and sit her poor, unconscious body into it and knock upon the door of her foster brother and her friend, and I leave with this taste in my mouth, this taste of the monstrosity I let myself become.

I wanted... I wanted... I needed...

to save her...

and yet...

Shame leads me toward a place where not a soul should ever see me, where the shadows can eat me alive, for all I care and all I deserve now, and I can let it come upon me... what a horrible failure I am.

 **Nobody understands how much I suffered throughout this entire chapter OH MY GOSH**

 **So... I was wanting to write this scene since I was writing The Lost Fossil Fighter and The Alone Champion (a long time ago!) It comes coupled with another chapter (the one after this) that I've also been planning for a long time... but it took me ages to start, oh my goodness! I was terrified of writing it the wrong way, because of how I wanted it to be... and as I went on, just more fear xD  
And I was also struggling to figure out what went where... and it certainly doesn't help that I started playing Corpse Party: Blood Drive until noon today... (and would've finished it too if the game didn't keep saying there was an error and hard-resetting! ;w;)  
Like the timing of Torn took awhile to decide first of all if he'd show up and second of all when.  
And everything at the end... was probably the easiest part... but also the part when I started to feel like an awful person. XD I'm crying right now! I've been crying since Rupert and Dina were talking through the door! Aahhhhhh**

 **I'm just gonna go try to beat Blood Drive if it feels like loading now  
then I'll revise  
I'm so dying**


	31. Da: Forgiveness

**Dina: ;_;**

 **Me: … it'll just get messy if I...**

 **Torn: -FUCKING STARRY I WILL—**

 **Me: BWAHHHHHH -replaces them with other characters-**

 **Munchie: pwp**

 **Me: … WRONG STORY**

 **Ashley: FUCK HI**

 **Me: wrONG WRONG WRONG WRONG -tries again-**

 **Llana: -very scared look-**

 **Me: NOPE -tries once more-**

 **Dino: …**

 **Me: owo …**

 **Dino: -burps loudly-**

 **Me: well it looks like I have succeeded**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 31: Forgiveness

 _Dina_

It begins as a trickle of light gentle files into my sight. Not morning... and yet... Where I sit... I feel... nn... it is hard to tell in this awkward state of... no, never unconsciousness—sleep of all kinds and some states of pure consciousness produce nightmares and I do not want nightmares—unless that part where... Rupert left me was a nightmare—but, but... where I sit right now, it feels hardening, like a shell, almost, but soft in the middle. A chair, most certainly. But which chair? And, where? Is Rupert here? Where has he gone..? Where am I, for that matter? Nn—but I do not care as long as he is here. But, but, that is exactly what I worry: has he gone? Wh-why would he feel the need to leave? It is scary without him... a-and he somehow... I am not sure how, but he managed to proffer the door and there was this moment when I saw his eyes. And scary, black pupils filled his entirety, not a streak of gold or even white, but... still. It... i-it was him, and that made me happy. Now I am scared to move myself. Wh-what if... what if I move, and the function costs me too much energy, and I... and I...

Nnng... Something is tugging on my hand... it is warm, yes, and it holds my hand tightly, but it is not a hand like Rupert; his either comforts me in the rustle of his dark gloves and slender fingers or rarely the soft but somewhat rough touch of his full, bare hands. I... like the latter... a lot... but I understand he feels shameful of his strange scars. Ah—

Again they tug me. My head bangs into the atmosphere and I cannot help but cry out, softly. A little moue flickers off of my tongue and I nearly collapse yet again, not into the chair but the ground before it. Betwixt the sensations of near-sleep and near-seeing, my head continues to throb readily. Fearful, I cannot bear the thought of taking another step, already, and fear the consequences if I do. But the excited fingers tug at me yet again, and this time, when I step, I do n _ot catch_ mys _elf co_ ll _apsing..._

CRROOOOOO _OOOOOOOOOOoooo_ ohhh...

 _The sound so terribly close to my ear ensues in quakes of shudders within me. My hands cannot grasp at the already-bent door, strangely crucified by lamenting curves and twists, now devoid of all texture and sight. It simply has been shredded to none but sawdust. I cough at this new realization, stumbling back to my feet, and staring, weakly, toward the gap in the barrier between Rupert and me. The barrier that has been shattered. I would hope, bleakly, a vivosaur like Torn—perhaps giving in to a plan or so Rupert may have, although I feel he would be searching for Trikko now—or even Mistress assisted him in this act._

 _How could he... do this, any...way..? I do not understand how he might... I was afraid and weak, and perhaps if I thought about it and worried less in the way of demolishing the poor door, maybe I could have escaped myself. That strange... um... battle form... thing... that happened once prior. But, sapped of my strength, I simply lie here on the cold and musty flooring. My body wracks itself in gentle, rasping coughs. I can feel, by standing so close to that door and the miraculous claws that tore through it, cuts and scratches oozing from me already. They burn a little... but if I succumb to them I will sleep... I cannot sleep... no, no..._

 _Holy flames, crackling black in state, sizzling through the air like the world is burning, shroud my vision. I cannot see where they came from or whey they feel so, so cold... only my eyes tie back and cannot help but flee in pursuit of icy tears at this sensation. Stuck on the ground and burning, I cough, and I cough, and smoke is all I can replace my lungs with, and I cough again. Black reeks in my sight, my eyes tied behind my back, perhaps this side of me to remain unscathed...The smell shivers into and through me... the acrid scent of... burning._

 _Smoke rises. It, I see, will try to consume the entirety of my vision; but I recall someone had opened the door and Rupert was on the other side of it and fitfully I try to raise my head, instead it falling limply to the ground again._ Kunk. _Stars bounce along my vision. But—no, no... I feel like this happened before... or, um, something like, and... ahhh... Fire licks at my stilled body. I do not even try to struggle past this point, merely in wait for the hulking background of a thing that has entered, shadowed and yet brightened by the fire._

 _A strange sensation trills throughout my body. My heart shudders in place, pumping, pumping—halt. If... this were a nightmare... this is the part where Rupert would... wake me up... right..? Throat contorted through smoke and flame and fear, fear, fear, I can hardly breathe. Still I cough, and when I do, the soft slurp of blood spills from my lips. I must... not look okay... When I strive to search through the flickering shadows, my vision dances, and so does all else, but that disfigured creature... it, most surely of all, struts into place. A rapid sheen of red shutters through him; my head warbles in the tremor; tears of blood cloak my cheeks._

 _Softly, I cough. Weak. I feel very... very weak. Sorely rasping once more, I lie in wait to see who has come to... visit me. Is it... Rupert..? Where is Rupert? I want to see Rupert... but he is not here..._

 _Finally._

 _His—he. It is a he. His presence decimates me. His breathing impales me. His eyes betray me. He fills me with a slimy feeling of... of... I shudder on the ground. Hulking far above any normal height, the flame-dancing pupils, the only light of the room, haunt me. Shudders cry as they slide through my body. His gaze flickers as he watches, entranced, in the shaking. Fear runs in rivers, torrents through me. And I am scared. My heart is in my throat and I can hardly find the space to continue living. Smoke overhangs and suffocates me, flames shiver and shrilly rip at me: and then there is he. He smells harsh and... sour. Very... sour._

 _Shiny things block out spots of my vision—permanently. Their brightness sears me and cool, dreary tears fall from my gaze. Claws, fangs... even his eyes blister me from that searching glare. I can hardly breathe. A long, foul tongue lingers betwixt these fangs of his; it reveals itself for a horrid second before the monster crashes down upon me._

 _The sound is unbearable. Rather quickly and efficiently my hearing goes out._

 _In this silent wave his face leers in so closely to mine. I try to search through the splotches in my gaze that have not yet become a malformed bleeding of black and into his flaming sight. A sneer cuts through my soul; his face, if that is what this is, leers immaculately close to mine. Our breaths are shared. He is inside of me—he is inside of me. With all of my being I know this._

 _All of the color in the chamber has encircled, like power, upon him. His fangs and his lips tear into my mouth, and all I can feel is the shredding of blood, the shredding of me. Bits of drenched, dragged hisses... Me—mmm... My heart bounces inside of me like it wishes to be killed next. A sickening conglomeration of sights pores upon me like pages of a book. The ink tattoos me in burning little excursions._

 _This thing right on front of me, consuming all that I have... my essence, my self, my body, my hopes and dreams and what I care for inside of me, as he tears all of this from me, and I begin to have nothing, and my blood leaks down, down, down his throat; I can hardly breathe, his face is so full of me. Harsh tears jerk from eyes that slowly demolish on their own, suns about to run out of fuel, their time spent right up._

 _I scream._

 _It is all I can do at this point. It is all I have now. A shudder passes through my body like a blade; like one of those claws has gone and cut me in half. Heart lunged halfway through my chest, I wonder... how I may still be alive right now? Nnnng... it has been so long since the last time I ever screamed... even as it continues and this purgatory continues and it tears into me yet again, taking my everything into itself, I wonder._

 _It has... been a long... time... since I have screamed..._

 _My gaze flashes alarmingly. Rupert... Rupert... Where are you, Rupert..?_

 _When his gaze flows into me again, warm, thick, hot, hot rain, I realize now that he was here the entire time... Greedily he bites i_ nt _o me agai_ n _... and_ it goes _on... an_ d on. _.._

"Aaaahahh... Ah—ahh... aa-aaahhh... A-ah..." The split of daylight leaks into me. I stay curled up where I lie and refuse to move any longer. Spluttering. Bright, wide awake, shuddering in place—yes... it has been a long t-time since I have screamed... Fearful of this occasion, my eyes split across the room I hardly recognize, trying to peer past all of the stars that jump into my dizzy sight because of it. As quickly and despairingly as I try to search, no, Rupert is not here. No... why is he... Desperate, I pull a hand in front of my mouth in the feeble attempt to keep me from... wailing. I try to swallow. That dream was a scary dream... they all are scary, but... it went on... and on... and on... I felt as if maybe it would not end... and Rupert, he—why was he...

Heart shattered in my chest, I cannot keep myself from hiccuping. My eyes, watery and big, most surely, peer delicately up toward the shadow I just saw above me. Is it the—no, no. Blinking, no, it is... a-ah. He brandished a needle and thread at some point, currently working through the meticulous task of sewing a wrinkled material in his tan hands—ah, I recall him grabbing me earlier. Eyes brown and tired, dripping and syrupy, he has not looked at me just yet. It takes time, but I recognize the dress he is sewing as the one I am—was—was wearing. Staring at my body, only the coat of the one I hold dear to me is still around me. I suppose it was... not as harmed? Protectively I hug it where it falls among me. It feels soft and smells sunny, like it had been in a wash outside... So it has left me at some unconscious nadir... Th-thank you, Todd.

Jolting, like it just came to him, his eyes somewhat lustrously spin out toward me. "Dina. I thought I heard you... heh. Errrr... are you okay?" Eyes big and brown, and watery too, Todd waits for my response after his soft whisper. I want to hug him and hide in him; the thought of the monster and Rupert sears me to immobility. I stay clumped in position on this chair, indoors now.

I cannot face him, either. "U-ummm... I-I am doing o-okay, I think... But Rupert is not here an—"

A shadow crosses his face when I mention the name; quickly I drop the thread of conversation. Is... Rupert okay..? Um... But I should not ask him if he looks so... down, right now. N-no, I will refrain in exchange for silence, I think. Staring blankly at the carpeting as he quietly sews in not patches but stitches of the pink thread where there are holes. Fretful, I attempt to recall the occasion that caused these malformations to exist in the dress I had donned under their obligations. My heart pounds when I cannot—d-do not tell me the amnesia is... oh, no, I simply... I think it is only because the situation was in some form of direness. If I managed to fall asleep and Rupert was not even nearby... um, I take... my waking moments as bliss and strive to stay awake as long as I can possibly manage. Training over years has given me a slight advantage; I can last weeks, but after the first few I begin to wilt. Still... if I truly needed to wait, I could muster it within me. When I sleep... and, as always, the nightmares exist... I try to hold off until in a safer place. Where I was last night... was not very safe at all... nn...

The thoughts swirl freely in my head, but I will not ask Todd where he is... at least, not at this time. M-maybe he does not know, even? Scary thought... Shaking my head, I try to leave the notion behind for now. I can learn about this awkward tenseness later. For now I am simply pleased to see Todd again, even if... the dress he... so kindly gave me... now, um, needs to be repaired. Still, his skills, a mirror to that of Pauleen, immaculately birth the dress anew, so it is no worry in the end what happened upon it. But I cannot help the unstopped drip of guilt crawling throughout me for causing—without memory of—the rips in the first place. Watching him, eyes wide, I whisper, "I am sorry, T-Todd."

"Aaaah?" He glances back at me. A small smile pulls at his lips. He is not... upset with me in any way. There is a twinkling in his gaze like the shining of stars high above in the sky. "No, no! Dina, don't get all worried about just one dress! This one'll look fine once I stitch it up more. Don't worry so much... you're already in a hairy situation. Seriously." Gently, he removes a hand from his stitching and places it upon my head. His smile warms me in my heart, and I cannot help but giggle in return. "Yeah, that's the spirit! Heh..." It makes me happy to see him brighten so soon.

Focused, face red from the tip of my nose to the edges of my cheeks, I watch curiously as Todd works with his stitching, my mouth slightly agape in wonder. How his physique, browned like gingerbread, threads the silvery little needle through, and through, and through with the connection of the cottony pink string until the hole is patched and one cannot tell very well where any of the once-holes had dispersed off to. Gently he gesticulates the fabric toward me; I latch upon an edge and find it difficult to tell where he had just been stitching other than the still-attached thread against the once-hole.

Nearby, perched upon the bed like she will take off any moment now, Pauleen furiously cuts at the material in her hands, muttering about how she must "add another hem, diga." Her pink coils of hair, not pinned up but loose all the way down to the winding end of her hips, curl about her and her work, giving she a strong, statuesque notion from her perch. Pauleen wraps her yellow-highlighted bangs from her tanner face and grunts into her swatches. "Todd," she eventually calls, "where the hell diga-did you put the pink thread?"

"I'm using it!" he hammers back quickly, "can't you see?!" He shakes the spool of white, wrapped and wrapped in cottony pink, at her emerald eyes. "So you gotta wait, Pauleenie! I only have three holes left to fix up, seeeee..." Mumbling like she was, hunching up against the desires his heart has created, he brandishes a tiny pair of scissors—the ends a colorful yellow—and _chics_ delicately off the needle his string. "Hmm. Now... righ'ere." Stitching furiously, he continues, taking no prolonged notice whatsoever at the heavy breathing of his roommate.

I have yet to understand their relation other than the mutual... somewhat-dislike? They remind me of murky water: while some pieces are clear, they seem to fit together so perfectly in a way only they will possibly ever comprehend. They seem to delve in fine as one group... and, um, I think they are friends and not, well, enemies in any sort. But they yell. Sometimes. I... am not very good with the loudness... but because they are dear, I smile as they do. Playing with my fingers, I begin to curiously count the stains of red and cuts lanced into their pale white tips of scales, cheeks puffing in provocative air as the number reaches what I think is double-digits. Heh... double-digits on my...digits... a-ah, that joke is awful...

A slam reverberates along the walls and all touching the floor. "Freakin'—TODD! GIMME THE STRING!"

"NO! WAIT YOUR TURN!"

"WHY ARE YOU SO DIGA-DUMB?"

"I DUNNO, WHY ARE YOU?"

He is casually yelling back at her as, brow furrowed, he quickly makes up his stitching. It is funny to watch one pass the time feeling bored by yelling at the other, who uses their anger as a stalling point to finish up and take turns sooner. Pauleen and Todd are silly and dear friends of mine... a-and I think Rupert, he, um, in the least, accepts them, but... h-how is he now? Wh-where is he? Why is he not here? Nervous, I thumb with my fingers together, pouting just a tiny bit. His coat swamps over my—just slightly, I admit—smaller frame. It brings me a new sense of comfort; even after being washed, his... soft and sweet... Rupert smell... i-i-is still there. A-and that makes me happy... It gives me comfort...

My mind begins to drip and drop and amble into the area again, my worries and anguishes of where he may be... why he is not here with me—with us—when the argument is lost—or is it won?—and the string is crowned to a rightful pinkette. She sashays back upon her bed and slumps into the hems she seems to be recreating, her stitches just as fast if not faster than the boy before her. What she dons currently consists of a simple pink nightgown, flouncy and easy for her to move in. Todd, beside me... is dressed in a similarly matching one of leaf green—with pants as well, striped pants, the face of a stego printed in areas. Cheerily, curls floating, he grins toward me.

"Diiiiinaaa~" Pulling his arms tight around me, we hug. He... Todd... he is my brother... and I am thankful for this... My head numbly brushes against his shoulder, the soft material of the green nightgown pillowing my tired face. I wonder how much it... shows through... just how tired I am. M-maybe not much. Resting against him, though; a nice little breeze flows through me, and I smile, being here with him... to be able to see him again. Pauleen, from her happy corner on the bed, smirks in the back of my sight. She waves when she notices my turning to face her, pink tongue sticking out casually. They joke and they yell, but all in all... they seem cozy in the embroidery that makes up their connection.

He feels more than sees my returning tears. "Aaaah. Dina... Don't tell me you're crying cuz of him... a-are you?" My blurry gaze drops. I-I cannot help it; I am sorry...

"T-Todd... I know you did not... w-want me to mention him—I-I saw how your face..." It does not shadow upon him this time; in his eyes, though, a small piece scratches over in recognition. "B-but, I cannot stop... worrying about him. Wh-where is he..? Why is he not nearby..? D-do you know? I... thought he was with me, but he was not... a-and I am scared, Todd... Rupert—he means so v-very much to me..." Numb with embarrassment, I can hardly bear to even face the carpet coated in dresses and fabrics below me.

He mouths words above me over to Pauleen. I believe she mouths back to him; harshly he nods, mumbles something back to her. Whatever her expression gives, he nearly crumbles there and then. "Uhhh... Dina?" Bright and jovial; not even the somber, overlying tone can take this core from him. "You don't... remember anything? At all? None of it?" Further in shame of myself, I forcefully shake my head no. "Well... it's not like we were there or anything, but... um..."

Dropping her hems, I can feel the clay-like warmth in the hand Pauleen strokes upon my shoulder. She stands by me in my chair, Todd on his knees, arms still tight. His gaze leaks, the sweet chocolate inside of him melting. Memories harden around the irises; my heart leaps. Our dear digadig friend does no more than squeeze my shoulder; quickly my breaths pitch. They come so close to comfort me... s-so why..? What is... what are they going to say? Th-they act like Torn just...

A-aaaahhh! Torn! _TORN!_

Before I even think of a protest, they break into their laggard speech. Todd is the mouthpiece: over my head I detect Pauleen shooting him looks with her eyes, to alert him... supposedly when he goes too harsh or tries to delete a detail. "Well, Dina... you see... We did see him in the distance when there was a loud knock on our door... like, loud enough that some of it even broke— _broke_ , and... you were sitting on the chair outside. You were... all... uh... cuts 'n stuff... Dina... It wasn't okay at all. At all!"

Whether or not his friend asked of this, her hand on my shoulder tightens more than I thought it could, and his voice raises sharply. "He can't just... drop you off all bloodied like that! What the heck! There was... Pauleen, you know what that thing was, right? The thing hovering around him? All black and... he moved like his feet almost weren't his own... not very long ago. And I know what that is! We all do! I-I think it's okay for him now—but what the heck about him! Dina, you're... you can't... you shouldn't be around him, Dina. I don't know what he did, but he hurt you. A lot."

I try to keep my sobbing quiet, as quiet as I can.

They do not want to hear it right now. They are mad. Mad at him... Rupert... b-but Rupert...

"So... I don't want you going anywhere near him... though I guess you'll probably break that rule. On accident. A lot. Ugh. I'd better make one you're really not allowed to ever break, ever. Dina? Just listen to me, okay?" I am scared to, but he is Todd, so I do, I listen to him. "Dina, not in any case, ever ever; I don't know what happened but I know enough to say this: You're not allowed to forgive him for this."

Deep... breaths... I swallow this rule whole. And I let it stay; I-I will do as he says, b-because he cares for me... and he saw things that I did not... so I sh-should listen... but—but he said it was okay if I go see him, i-in the least... and I-I must find him... I-I must find Rupert... and... and Torn as well. Torn must be nearby; I try to think for myself; Torn must be... of health, in whichever place he may be, un-unless he began to y-yell at the guards again. But... but I think not. As well they left for an important event... Princess Amurr was... um... returning, was... w-was it?

Well, that does not matter so much right now. Torn and Rupert... Rupert. If my two dear friends are pushing me upon this route, or against, even, to being near him, if they wish so harshly that I would not come close to the one I... to the one I... a-ahhh... Gently, feeling just as fragile as glass, I cup my head in my hands and allow my eyes to flutter shut. Please, for just a moment, let me try to be. I cannot help chewing at my lip worriedly as thoughts, and from this, images, seal across my head while their voices charge around me. Perhaps I do not understand what he has done or why they are so upset with me; still I wish to be with him, and still I feel apart... it does not matter i-if somehow he played a role in when I found myself in cuts and scratches, petals of red spilling from me, dress in tatters—no, I wish to see him and... it does not matter. N-no. He is who matters to me; not a... circumstance.

Looking at this state of my mind, I wonder to myself, almost laughing in this sort of despair, at how strange I would sound if I told my friends this. But... but... Rupert is... so very much: he is kind, he is thoughtful, he listens to me, he feels emotions just as vividly, if not more, than others, he tries to lessen my fears, and he... he wishes he would find his will to... to... smile, I am sure. He is... trying. Joy... he wishes to hold it and understand, to know what it is again. That is... not at all a bad wish of his. The thoughts in his mind, the vivosaurs he shares with, they reflect his inner self, the purity and the will deep inside of him. Perhaps some strange... I do not know what... ah...

Words flash bright red: _You're not—allowed—to—forgive—him for this!_ Blaring sharp and shiny, hard to look away from, I remember this, and it is all I can hear. The voices in my head I have grown so accustomed to have been lost somewhere... I shudder.

I require a second to realize that this cold premonition is not simply from my own heart and my own mind: the outdoors stirs. The breath it beholds has careened into our chambers. Hesitant, peeping my eyes open just the slightest of amethyst slits, I watch as the windows, and as well, the curtains, and the dresses attached to their chains, rustle freely, air pulling throughout the chamber. The pulsating need to run digs through my body, to find... to find them... all of them... but, afraid, I hug to myself again. In the end I resolve to leave my orbs open and watching, curiously, my open and lightened surroundings. Todd has yet to begin sewing any other pieces of clothing; he instead snags at the coat around my body as I stir.

"Heeey... just for a little bit," he mumbles. Tugs again. "Like, the clasp thingy's all messed up. There's like three little scratches. Please, Dina? I know you're all nervous and freaked out, but... Just a little, please stop wearing the coat." His orbs, deep and soft, gentle again, hold me closely. "No matter... what happens, I swear I'll give this back to you... or him or... we'll see. I just... don't wear it for a bit. Please?" He tries at a small grin. Looking away, I slowly pull away the soft, red fabric and undo the crescent blue clasps and allow him to take hold of it as he searches for the correct threads. I... believe him... a-and I guess if he... does not want me to wear it and wishes to fix any small holes in it, as few and unnoticed as they are—that I have not even seen—then I suppose that is fine... but it feels wrong... in my heart...

Gently, I press my little fingers against the beating in my chest, and I sigh softly. My legs stay curled tightly close to the rest of me. I stare forlornly toward the horizon and the breeze; they give great care in me... But I still miss him. And he is... far off. Todd leaves his warm gingerbread hand upon my shoulder as he returns and sews; the room is soft and silent other than the stroking of string. When I search over his face, beneath freckles lies a small sheen of... red. I-I trust it is not a fever.

In copy to me, he sighs afterward. "I... Dina..." Stuffing his face into his work, close enough so that he cannot tell what it is or where it came from, only the tiny scratches that could have come from an assortment of places, he goes quiet again. Until... "I'm sorry. I'm all nervous too... heheh. You mean bunches and bunches to me, y'know?" Swallowing, I try to nod toward him. It is just a lot...

From the other side of the chamber, Pauleen mumbles words I cannot quite catch. Todd, unlike me, nods merrily and murmurs something vague in return. I allow my gaze to follow back into the ground again. While they talk and I do not quite listen, I hug to myself, tail swinging behind me. Spots of snow-like crystals shine in my scales. My bangs, soft and wavy, hang just above my eyes, but I cannot quite tell where they are unless I focus on them. Heart heavy, for a time, I do. Their voices play in my head and I do not listen well enough to hear them, instead letting it pass.

Maybe I will stay for a little longer... but I want to go soon... g-go for a walk... w-well, it will be more than a walk, but still, a walk. When I search outside again, through the stream of windows lied into the creamy back wall, a stream of inky red, mingled with a blue, liquid-like essence, streams in with the sunrise. Bright yellow, all-seeing, the great orb of light in the sky continues a timely ascent. Nnng... I worry for him—and I worry for Trikko, too... and Nyra, and Reyna and Aladee... a-and Rupert as well... oh... Rupert... I wish I understood the occasion of which you felt the reason to... leave. Staring helplessly out of a glassy chamber, I still... wish to wait. It might assure Todd... it might assure Pauleen... they might not want me to leave right now... My gaze drags for the floor again.

Trapped...

"Diga-Diiiinaaaaaa?!" I toss my eyes to the girl by the windows. She steps toward me again. "Diga-did'ya hear about how the princess and Joanie or whatever coming back from visiting the Islands again? Heard they had to meet up with... some... important person, I diga-dunno, diga. I diga-don't listen to that crap; just saw they were gone. 'pparently they're back now... so we should totally visit sometime, eh..?"

Ah. She wishes to... cheer me. Um... I glance away. I cannot help it.

"Bah... Awwww..." Emerald orbs struggle to reach me; I am sorry... "Diga-Din-Din... we haven't been thinking much bout how you might feel, ehehhh?" I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry... "You... Well, I mean... as long as you're not too tired or anything... I guess you could go out for a bit. Iiif you want, diga. But. But!" She lurches from her place, shoving her hands over my shoulders and searing her orbs into mine, attempting to knock the hand Todd placed on me earlier away and in turn sharing the space with him. "Promise that if you really diga-don't feel well, you won't... and, and! Digadig!" Her face, pressed in close enough to me that our noses nigh touch, dodges back from my brother. She hustles into a whisper: "Be careful when you find him. Please, diga. You can't tell how much we worry about you, y'know..."

But she does release me. And Todd does, reluctantly, drop his hand from my sight as well, offering a shy wave. When I rest my feet into the soft carpet below, yes, I do swoon and nearly spill over—but, but I must continue on. I must figure where my vivosaurs fled off to... and to hold them again—and Rupert... always. Struggling, I focus only on my feet and on pressing them into the ground and moving, moving, slowly and slowly and again and again. They are... protective over me; and I am thankful for them. But I... I... there are some things I need to... I must... Whence I open the brass barrier and place it closed behind me, I can cough and cry as much as I want, for I do not have to worry of them seeing me in such a state. Even if he is not here, I feel the thought of his gaze upon me; my heart aches, imagining how far away he... h-he is from me now. We were... so close... the door was capped, the wood was gutted; he... I recall eyes... maybe not his eyes, but he... I know that he had been there, had been with me, even for a moment. I cannot lose this. Struggling, understanding how risky I make myself, especially if unconsciousness claims me, I strive on anyways.

My breath catches in my throat; perhaps I was... weaker than I had thought. B-but there is no reason for me to st-stop... a-ah, I must keep... going. Where is he? Oh... I never thought of that. He went in this direction; they mentioned somewhere: Rupert strode for the right of this hallway, so if I continue on in this fashion then I should find him... farther and farther from the staircase to the side, and further from the room we shared before... those unfortunate events occurred. Joanie and Princess Amurr are here now... It would be nice to see them again; they compliment each other well in personality and stance, and they are quite close. They are close in similarity to...

Swallowing, I strive onward, quickly and easily losing track of where I have gone. Up a set of stairs—but it may have been down. Past five hallways before another turn... I think... and windows, the windows submerge across all of the walls against the outside, scenery shining straight through. I can catch images of myself and see what my friends saw in me: ribbons of cuts across my loosely-fitting body; splotches beneath my gaze; hair mussed in places. Hot, blaring shame burns inside of me when I see this and wonder when... when I find him, and he... b-but I must... must continue. It matters... n-not so much. My breaths billow around me and fall like lost friends; but... Rupert. I do not care how taxed I am... I need to see him...

Stumbling into another dreary corner, I cover my face and breathe into my cupped fingers before going on.

They trace me in their grand realm, their tongues scraping over floor and structure around me. Scared, I try to hold my feelings away from me; like vines, they sprout and grow closer, entangling my frail attempts. Chewing listlessly at my poor lip, I scour again and move on. The very air I breathe hurts to gasp into, but I must... I must... I... ah... It hurts...

A blue shadow crosses my path.

It takes blinking and pausing, halts and pressing into my forehead, deep sucking of the air about me into my panting heart, before I can accept that this is real and I did not hallucinate... like I have been. F-frequently. My chest pounds. My eyes squint in the attempt to ward away feelings that already dominate my shivering little body. Feeble, I try to take hold of my lips and whisper his name, to hear it aloud in front of me: he jolts. He moves. His thick, sailed body, scraped in feelings I cannot hold because he moves so quickly and tries to hide them, darts from my grasp. I cry out, stumbling after him. _T-t..._ His name taxes too much effort from my blighted body. Shaking myself, I try to go after him without losing my awake state in the process.

He is slow. So he must... register my presence and accept it wholly. Maybe he was... Air fills my cheeks; I pout back at him vainly, feeling the claws of my emotions pulsating through. But I go on. And so does he, just out of my reach. I end my pleas and merely dodge after him, recalling his own play in this world and in this situation and wondering why he is showing me the way. Shadows crisscross our paths and try to blind me; I go on. He shows me; why, I want to ask him now, why? But I should not. If he lifted his lips for me to hear, he would; now is not... not the time.

Showing me off into a dead-ended way, devoid of most life here, breathing into the shadows that reek of memories I do not want him to be with, Torn lifts his face and sears his dagger-like orbs into me. We are connected. _Dina._ It is a whisper. A soft and pained whisper. _I can feel every last fucking thought you have of him right now... He means so much to you and you mean so much to—ahhhhhhhgggghhh. I... Of course I had to show you... dammit. There's no way I couldn't._ His eyes hold me and pat my head and smile toward me, very slowly. And I understand how much he loves me... Torn...

He leaves me with a smile. A toothy, tongue-flickering, half-hateful smile. I love him. I love Torn... Oh... how I do...

Quickly I dash through the final stretch and allow myself to be swallowed within the vengeance and black entwined across one another, delving through and within murky depths of water that drown me in without another shell of a word to escape. I dive and allow this suffocating sense to paint me; and, breathing hard, hardly breathing, I trust that he is okay. There, I do spot him, quickly, easily: even now he shines in the darkening corridor. Even without a soul... beside him... I catch him easily. I-I do not want him here... at all. Panting, gasping, head blaring, I take my descent and nearly topple whence I reach him, hands open and shaking toward him.

Here I am. I must be a mess in his sight; stained and rippled and knotted in this bleary pain, fuzzy around me. Coating me. Almost. I was lonely last night... Even Torn took his time to find me; the guards having not dispersed until the princess and her friend returned. Nervous guards... And it recalls me of this moment, how bloody in the darkness he is. I do not... like him here. I do not want him to be here a-at all. It is not fitting for him; his... elegant... handsome... kind... hopeful self... should not be left here. Splayed out in front of him, perhaps I am the mess here, but it is when his gaze strokes upon me, dull and bleached, where my breath finally halts.

Somehow it is the first thing I note, that he recognizes his coat is not around me.

I feel bare.

Shadows and feelings, half-cooked and weak, crumbling, coat his face. Tired... from whatever it was that occurred; he is tired. Worn. Patched. The events... he wishes to forget it. I cannot even recall this time; he sees and knows this as well, he must see it in me. There is a small shining in his gaze from this. Just like... with his... mother, this is something he is pleased I was not revealed toward. Still, he is tired. He could be ready to give into this monster of a heart that touched and probed and bit at him any time. No—I cannot... I do not want that to happen. In the midst of our searching into one another, my hands begin to shake. Badly. Fear corrupting, wanting to own me, they shake. He certainly can delve into me and see in my bathypelagic depths just how... afraid I am. Perhaps not of the reasons he predicts but the fear is choking me, hugging me around the neck.

Pale, he stands in his undershirt, one I have come to recognize by one moment, one memory. Fleeting memories: lips connecting: warmth, safety: and it is gone. Shadows coalesce in their attempt to claim him. My mouth feels filthy. I feel filthy... he does not deserve this. Rupert... I wish to reach further than my hands can go, to step closer; but I cannot. I am frozen. Only he can... take that step. And he is frozen too. Breaths softening, eyes glistening, I watch him. Even in his state of hardship, he glimmers in my eyes: he fills me and births in my heart the gentlest of warmths... even now he tries me to smile. But I am frozen. And I wait.

His eyes are not drawn. His posture is not fitted. All that he feels is on display for me alone to see. A tireless pain races through his core; he bleeds from the inside at his feelings; and I see that, although subtle, nearly undetected after the wallowing shame, he is afraid as well. Neither of us can bear to move. Even so, his lips connect; his eyes dart from me. He lands his sight upon a stray bit of blackness in this empty chamber. In a whisper, he tells me, because this is as close to the truth as he can come, "You shouldn't be..."

here.

The words fail. I try not to understand why, although, admittedly, it is obvious. My sobs, softly as I try, have cut him from his thoughts. Quickly my face reddens; and my eyes drop to the floor. I strive not to catch within the inky sickness, but strongly it pulls at me. I shake my head. My curls bob about me. Breaths are hard to come by.

A barrier cuts betwixt us. One I do not recall creating, but somehow he feels it, and because of this, my hands fall to my sides weakly. He is not going to reach out; simply, he cannot. He is trapped. He is... he feels broken from me, for the even that had occurred. The thoughts, hot and blank, storm not in me but around him. I do not feel this barrier, no matter how thickly he coated it, and the thoughts unwrap around me. Just... little things. Whispers. Words. Power. Claws. A door, ripping into little ribbons of wooden slices. And... red... markings... across... is that—

He would not want me to see this and I feel my heart pule for him. There are emotions I wish to explain to him; feelings I will for him to see. This... bliss that I feel, in the core of his storm and his fear, holds upon me. His gaze, weak, does not seek for mine like it has in the past; I still try to lift toward him. My face has gone numb with the sensation of wetness and spent tears. While it shivers, I hold my lips together and I try to tell him what he means to me but they will not summon, they cannot form; I cannot breathe. Silently my words fail to appease me. Petals from a flower; when I fall, I nearly cannot support myself, even now. It is slow slumping and slow gliding, a very slow fade from his presence. I am not leaving him but I am falling, and the shadows are eating me alive. Words that may express what I desire, yearn, need for him to hear search for me, and I for them, but we cannot reach each other.

I cannot forgive him. Do not forgive him. Do not forgive him... do not...

 _Tmp._

My shaking, sobbing body reaches the ground. Hands spread out before me, knees catching me just the slightest, my head manages not to hit carpet, and I manage to keep my head above these waters. For a stricken moment, I do hear the words, and they connect with my head and melt into my soul and fill me, overflow me. And I have to let them flow through me; I have to release them; he needs to know or I will die. I will die if I cannot tell him.

A cough wracks throughout the entirety of my tiny, weak body. I gasp and I gasp and struggle to hold my breath until I can say it. I struggle to breathe; without breath my words will never be able to move. I will not be able to show him my heart... my soul... my... my...

"Ruu...perrt..." I manage it within the bleak confines of a whisper. From his standing above me I can feel his gaze. It permeates the boundaries I never had and a great, shining light breaks out through the shadows. I can breathe. Gasping, crying, a mess of snot and tears the conglomeration of my face, I wheeze, and I continue, as I must, I must tell him...

"Rupert... Rupert... Rupert...

"I... I-I love y-you..."

And I do...

The soft gasp that utters and flits from his lips, I hardly hear. The stutter and the new, glorious dawn that exhumes throughout the chambers, I cannot see. All of my focus has derived into this... my love, my love for him, and a small part of fear that if I do not hold myself up I will be cut up and tangled with nightmares of reality yet again. And no... I want Rupert... I want Rupert... over all of that... always... He is watching over me, even now... I can hardly believe I was able to tell him...

Gently, slowly, in a fashion such as mine, he works his way down upon his hands and his knees and cradles my weaker figure, his fingers giving needed time to work up the understanding as he covers mine in his, theirs always... warm and safe. Safe. Safety... I find safety in you, Rupert, and I always will. You will... forever be... my... love...

His eyes, when I manage to look from our entwined hands and into him, stay close to me. I feel this warmth rushing through me, this knowing that he never wishes to leave me, not like this time and never, ever again. His breath brushes upon me, careless to my tears and my state. He... fills me. His... My eyes inevitably drop to his lips and I pause.

His... somehow I knew... I knew... his smile would be this... beautiful...

Yet again I feel myself choked in these feelings as his forehead gently presses against mine, and to me, and me alone, he utters, "Dina...

"Thank you... Dina...

"I love you..."

A-ah... These feelings flow through me... This... love... for him... I feel... I wish I could say more than that but I cannot. My mind so full of him, I whisper his name, over and over again... My eyes so bleary I can hardly see him other than his smile, his eyes, and the gentle blush upon his cheeks.

Raising one hand, he cups my cheek, oblivious to any and all messy tears coating it, and whispers warmly into me, "I love you, Dina," pulling me in close to him, careful against my collapse, and my smile meets his... My heart brims of his feelings and mine together... his body so... warm and gentle beside mine. I eventually allow my eyes to close, nuzzling up closely to him as his smile and his lips pattern me; my forehead, my cheeks, my neck... collarbone... my heart, and hand... He is everywhere... he is holding me, and he is here... he is here... and I love it... I love him... I love him... Oh, how I love him...

His joy coalesces with mine as our gazes clasp again. His smile, soft and tender... gentle and warm... Please, Rupert... never, never lose your smile again... I gently raise one of my hands, resting my fingers against his soft, pink lips, and I tell him this. Only softer and kinder does his smile grow, as he raises a hand and entwines it with mine, pulling me in close to him again...

Eventually, we learn to lift again from the lustrous morning, and the glory of it all. My feet stumble, but his arm gently rests across my back, around my waist, and he lets me find support in him. The light in his eyes illuminates my entire face every time he graces me in his presence. My heart softly beats, happy, happy, happy, in my chest. Shyly, I had placed my own hand over his heart... it is so warm and gentle. Stay with me, Rupert; may we never part...

He told me that... my scales are soft under his touch, and that made me happy. My face, blushing to the tint of a soft pink, cannot end a continuous searching over him, over his gaze and his hair and his face and his smile and his... whole demeanor. The words ring in the back of my head; yet again my smile swoons. In the end, we had decided to return toward the room Todd and Pauleen share. Perhaps... they will not like to see him at this time—but still, his... coat is there. He understands their feelings on repairing the gently torn coat. Although I suppose if Torn were here, he would digress readily, insisting in some form that—

 _He should always have me on his back so that he never forgets that he's a bitch and I'm watching him in every waking moment I have? Yeah, that. Fuck. Yes that. Hi guys._

I nearly lose my grip on Rupert in order to chase down my dimetro if not for the burst of wooziness that scars me when I try even a step longer than a small one. My head shoots in rackets of pain; Rupert ends his moving and, cradling and kissing my aching head, myself reddening, my dear, sailed dimetro casually sashays toward us. _I'm sorry, Dina! GAAH, DAMMIT, I SWEAR I'LL TRY NOT TO DO THAT AGAIN AND SCARE YOU. FUCK I HATE RUPERT THOUGH._

Tears drench me yet again through my little grin as I tug him into a hug, Rupert shadowing and holding me as I do. It takes mere moments after the sabotage of Torn for his best friend to follow stiffly, snorting his cyan-and-red head as he stampedes after. _Idiocy, am I right?_ Through his guffawing, I force him into my arms as well. Their somewhat-enlarged bodies give me slight difficulty, but I could care less and continue to tightly hold them to me. _Wow, you sure look happy... Even your tears are happier. I'm not sure how to explain that as there isn't much factual evidence to support me—still, it happened. And that... makes us happy._

 _All of us!_ From behind him flits a kite-like Nyra, she burying herself into my chest and nuzzling close to me. _Aaaaahh, you don't even have to tell me! I can just feel it! Ohhhhhhhh, this joyyyy~_

After her gaily follow a bright-eyed Reyna and skipping Aladee, which both, seeing no room left for me, scuttle toward Rupert. Well... Aladee does the latter; Reyna shoves my blue-scaled dear aside and tells him to give her some space. Trikko smirks at this and merely moves himself. We understand how Torn feels about my... m-my love. It again becomes hard to see—and breathe, too—surrounded by this joy that so greatly contains me. Above my beloved, scaled friends, glowing gold orbs meet mine, and his smile flushes my face in a wonderful blush. He places his arms gentle around me, and we stay like that.

In the end, it is Pauleen and Todd that stumble upon us; we never do reach their room, too weighted down by our vivosaurs. Softly, ignoring him, they smile and laugh at me; until, slily, Todd rests his arm across my shoulders and rubs his face impeccably close to mine; then any sign of tension is lost, and I am happy. They have each donned fluffy, white dresses assorted by varying ribbons, excitedly joined by the hugging and the laughing... and the smiles. Perhaps he loses it once, maybe twice, or it has considerably shrunk, but still it rests in him; I know that he will not let go of his... Rupert...

By now, even the princess and Joanie have found us as well; I suppose my tears... a-and my vivosaurs... are that loud. The latter an elegant, tall beauty, a nomadistinian of golden fur and long, thick ears—as well as her golden curls; Princess Amurr is a shorter stud in comparison. Her amber orbs twinkle mischievously, her calico pelt thick and short-furred, her black ears luxurious beneath shorter black hair and her bejeweled tiara. Their muzzles gleam upon seeing us; they know us... quite well. All of us.

Betwixt the emotion and the laughter mixed together, Reyna raises her red gaze and shadowy figure toward me, muttering, _Shut up. They don't know me well at all._

So I smile and let her know just how false her fake hopes are. And how happy I am... to be alive.

 **Me: I LOVE THAT SCENE**

 **Amurr: Rrrrrrg? (My scene?)  
**

 **Joanie: Non, non, I am zuuure she means ze roooomaaantic zooone!**

 **Amurr: -soft hissing because she doesn't like romance-**

 **Me: AHHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER**

 **Amurr/Joanie: TTwTT**

 ***I just wanted to say screw "I love you 'too'"  
thanks**


	32. Ja: Consider the Wedding Crashed

**Eheh... Now I'm a little sad, because the Rupert and Dina chapters are almost done here and I have to go back to Jkonna. XD Don't get me wrong! I love my Jkkie! But... Dina Rupert romance... TTwTT Jkonna has no romance because she's fooping Jkonna and even if she did it wouldn't be like thaaat...**

 **Foster: loudly yawns in my face -And this matters?-**

 **Me: go away fosterrr**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 32: Consider the Wedding Crashed

 _Jkonna_

"Diga-Dino? I still think you should've worn the tuxedo I got." His ears had perked for a moment when I'd mentioned it, but just as soon he'd slumped afterword because he can't stand the thought of wearing clothes right now, like a true diga-dinaurian or whatever. But come on. We'll be at a wedding. We got invited. Diga. Dress. Nice. But I guess I can't expect so much from him. I'd been shifting around the place in my semi-uncomfortable teffla dress, which matches his teffla tux, because matching is a good thing. Its outward hems and the like are this soft, silky yellow, a bubbly turquoise following up beneath, and ending at the very bottom, green. Fluttery teffla wings—the soft, faded, iridescent wings—flit across my diga-dress, sewn in there by some very sturdy hand, and bright yellow tights end the diga-dress to my... toes. Ankles. One of the two.

He took his time mulling around the words before responding exactly the way I knew he would: "But you said there was a time I had to wear it, and a time I don't. And this is the time I don't. And I'm a dinaurian—and a man. So, like, naaaahhhhhhh!"

Honestly I'm just happy he's acting like himself. If he wasn't... I shudder even now to think of the diga-dripping mess I'd be scooping into his velvety yellow—matching, I said—tuxedo with the fluttery wings just as diga-depressing as his state, and the face revealing it. He'd be the raincloud in the audience and I'm sure I'd be the only one giving him not even the slightest of berths. Well, not including our vivosaurs... which I bought little—incredibly stretchy—teffla-wing necklaces for. Yellow bands. Green-and-blue-and-yellow papery wings lined in black branch-like vines across. I'm not sure how all eight of them managed it without a single yowl against me; let's just not question it.

No... I know diga-Dino technically has... in a... an awful way... six. But I—diga-do you think I care..? Roughly I'd shaken my head and grabbed his hand and we hadn't even the time to say good-bye that extra third time that diga-Doug had asked us to. He's... watching over... _them._ Ugh, I hope diga-Dino diga-doesn't diga-do that one thing where he ends up using them anyways. Oh my gosh... Looking at him, he just might. I try not to focus on that.

Slumped into my spot, hair in my eyes, I sigh to myself as we wait. Diga-Dino bounces around in his place beside me, either because of candy or something or maybe Lone's overly hyper today. It's happened before. I have not a clue what the heck's wrong with that thing. Bomba sighs from her curled spot in my lap, but it's a languid, relaxed, caring sigh. A Bomba sigh. She must feel like she beat fire again. But whatever it is that etches that peace over her snout, it's effective. I poke at her belly a little to make sure she diga-doesn't fall asleep before the service starts. Personally, I diga-didn't think they'd want one, but I guess her parents really are creepy strict. Heard they dyed her wedding diga-dress black too. At least she works the color, but my goodness, what is that family of hers... It's funny... how diga-different she actually is. Nick Nack's diga-done circles around her... they really share a connection.

Sh-shut up, I share a connection with someone _too_. Just because I'd rather refrain from kissing him and turd like that diga-doesn't mean he isn't special to me. I curl up and stuff my face in my diga-dress, pouting to myself about it. Bomba squeaks in a little earthquake of terror, her feathery body bumbling around until it attempts to settle on my knees; but by then I'm shaking so bad she tries to settle for my head. No one's around yet; I can sit like this for as long as I want until the organ in the middle starts spouting its song. Tremors of people sculling the chamber for fanciable seats rattle against my stiffened body. Not really sure what else to diga-do, I feel my best friend lean on me. His head covers mine like an eclipse; I mumble nonsense into my knees that makes him laugh; for a second, just as second, his laugh makes me laugh, too. It warms my stomach.

Bomba, balancing her best on my head, leans her flaming snout up close to my left ear and whispers, through our heads, so I'm not sure why she's so close, that she can't get much of a grip. _Jkkieeeee?_ I've never thought of my u-raptor's voice being soothing or bubbly in any way, but right now it somehow manages to cover both bases. I diga-don't think she can tell. Since this is Bomba, it's entirely possible she's been tone-diga-deaf the entire time. _Jkkie? Yo? Why's it so hard to get a grip on you? You're being so... wobbly. I don't think anything's gonna set on fire right now—but I have a bad feeling that notorious villain will show up later._ She leaves off in sound rumbling, head still intercepting mine.

It's a weird egg of warmth rattling on the left side of my head. Her breathing, soft and heavy, blots out all other sound from half of my face, diga-Dino trying his best to diga-do the same on the other side. They're silly. Weird, too. Morie's lodged under a chair, I think. Bliss shoved her in a cushion... or under a chair... but she also might be under the stage in front of us for all I know. I can just hear her strict, mom-like trillfloating toward us: _Jkonna? Be good! Please try, in the least!_

 _Yes!_ I cry in return, _because there's no way I've been diga-doing that before now!_

She winces. It's a tiny, fluttery squeak from wherever she originated; I can hold it in my hands. She winces again because of that. Her green body curls up on itself. _Yes, yes, that's all very true. I'm sorry. I just worry! You worry; but I still worry too, Jkonna! Goodness knows where we'd all be if I didn't. Plus... wait... hey! Hey! Bliss! Where did you disappear off to? Ugghhh..._ Leaving us with her groan, I can just imagine the poor, trapped m-raptor scuttling about in place, calling for an acro who has yet to show. A shame Bliss hasn't turned her rigid but warming grin up yet; her teffla band matches best with her musty brown body and hazel eyes. Morie's tropical rainbow, complete with mango slices of orbs, diga-doesn't match up that well; diga-don't get me started on Bomba. She insists and insists but she smells like smoke on a good day and her eyes heat my soul to the core in that diga-dull color of glowing yellow lava, like that of melted bananas.

 _What about me, Jkonna? Dooooon't tell me you've forgotten now._

My eyes narrow. I can't help it anymore. He's annoying. He's Foster. Freaking Foster. And because I diga-don't give him an answer, he keeps his yawn rolling. _Perhaps I look so lackluster to you, but I must say that I feel rather fresh in this uniform!_ I'm sorry but I really want to hit him.

 _Diga-dolt... it's a freaking band! Please stop, digadig._ If it's possible, my already icy slits scrunch even further into my head. For some reason, that makes this great, thick, unladylike laughter to expand into the pearl-like chamber—okay, now _that_ has to be Bliss. Wherever the heck she is.

It takes until now for me to realize they were trying to cheer me up. They still are. Oh, my gosh, I feel like such a diga-drag now... Weakly I pick at my diga-dress, letting my legs limply land in front of me. The chair—more like a longer bench—pew—set up in the very front row, others circling in creepy rows behind us, squishes under my weight. Every time I move, it makes this little _squirpchhh_ sound and I feel guilty, like I'm sitting on something. Like I'm sitting on Bomba. _Uhhhh. I don't know if I like the sound of that? Not really?_ Yes, exactly, Bomba. That's what my conscience feels like right now. She sort of snorts at this, a spark of a flame diga-diving _right up my ear_ , and she shyly moves her head away from that general diga-direction. I'd thank her if I could hear more than the soft sizzling of smoke. And... Diga-Dino. Oh my gosh. Wake up.

For once, I feel like Morie.

Shoving off at him causes the diga-dinaurian—prince, of all things—to go tumbling into the aisle in front of us, that lounging space between the stage and this first row of ours, the poor gazebo now shiny with the impact of some random kid in scales. Giggling, just softly, I ask him, "Y'know the bride's gonna step on that specific piece of wood, right? Diga, what if you're bad luck? What if the moment she places foot _right there_ "—I emphasize the fake seriousness of the moment by pointing at his fake guilty face—"she like... turns into another diga-Dino?" It's stupid; we both start giggling in gasping fits.

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to swoop in and propose to her... uh... Jkonna?" Confusion rounds his sweet, gray clouds of eyes. "Would Bea be a girl or a boy at this point of the story?"

Good question. "No idea." We start laughing again, simple as that. When I manage to raise my head again, little strips of my bangs, bright and flaming, catch my white-icy eye, and I can't help but smile again. Pulling my hand out toward him, he tries to lift himself up using my body for support—and instead, I go tumbling into him. Our heads nearly connect and everything. Whether or not we're still the only people here diga-doesn't matter all that much. I heard the orphans would be showing up soon, too, though. But when we visited them, that orphanage lady—Morn something? some Morn—told me not to let diga-Dino know, since surprises and all. We diga-didn't stay long, opting to come into the big, open, loud and fresh gazebo early. Because, like, we knew something like this was gonna happen one way or another. The orphanage happens to be on this island. Maia Island?

Bea and Nick Nack and the others are probably out readying themselves... Gosh, just the thought of their fancy fabrics and lush looks is diga-driving my heart up a wall. Diga-Dino, just as full of energy as me—maybe it was those pies she let us have slices of before leaving—shoves my face into the wood and asks, his breath a shower of key lime, "Huuhhhh? What'll happen now that you're in the ground here, too?"

I laugh in return. "Oh, but you see, diga-Dino, I'm not the cursed one!" The surprise in his face lasts a second long enough for me to turn around and trump myself in the air again, smirking in his face. He just giggles, eyes bright and bubbly, just like Bomba. Patting my head, she purrs from the top and nuzzles into my bangs like I'm some sort of walking, talking nest. Not that she and Morie have any chance of needing one.

 _Jiiikoooooooooonnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!_ she screams from the other side of the chamber. Yeah, Morie loves me.

Even with my futabi smirking a storm in the back of my head, and everyone surrounding me in bursts of laughter, I try not to admit to myself that it's working and they're making me smile, really smile. The alternative and the entire reason I've been freaking out isn't so fun to return to, but I can't help but peel over its edges anyways. Stuffing my hands close together, mottling them into a ball of fingers and feelings, I glaze over my best friend again, who smiles a little softly my way. My hair, flowing diga-down past my feet by this point, nearly tries to trip me on our way back to the front row, but we make it all in one piece, as far as I can tell. The orphanage will come soon, and then that Joe guy and all the other friends Nick Nack and Bea invited to their wedding that's not diga-Doug or Vivian who got upset about missing it, but... well...

The others can go _their_ wedding, whenever that shows up. It'll come in the gist of time.

His voice is softer now, hesitant, like he diga-doesn't wanna spook me. I stay close to my tall best friend and let his shadow meld over me like armor; it makes me feel safe, just him next to me. Knowing that... things are diga-different from what they were not so long ago. "Hey, Jkonna... did you like all the kids? I know they're all kinda weird and kinda crazy, but, uh... did you enjoy seeing them for a little bit? And Cooper, too. Did you like him?"

Diga-Dino mostly spent his time around his old... mom, would it be? Orphanage lady? I diga-dunno. She seems like the kinda person to be like the best orphanage lady I know, and she acts like a sort of nurturing figure to all the kids, young and old, watching over them with her kind eyes and smiling and correcting them through their lives very gently. That boy with the red-spike hair who diga-dressed in all red, had sort of gingerbread skin and a smile that almost always wasn't sarcastic—Cooper, right? Diga-Dino's... best friend before everything. Like he knows exactly what I'm thinking, his clumsy idiot diga-Din-Din self collapses against me and we nearly spill into the front yet again. His smile comforts me and lets me know that... a lot of things have changed since then. And, um, I'm here now. That makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside...

Even for a moment, it must've been nice for him to whisk little glimpses of those he'd grown up around, memories painted on the wooden walls of the humble, big home. And he asked me to see them. We'll have to pass them by again. Of course. I'm not... calling a simple coincidence like this that chance he was asking me for.

Oh, right. He asked me something. "Yeah, they all seemed nice. Heck of a lot of boys though. And that Cooper kid... diga, wouldn't he be considered old enough—like you are now—to go out on his own in life... or whatever? Why's he still hanging around?" As I return his words, softer, not like him but softer, he can't help but grin a bit.

"We always had a running joke that all the girls, whenever we did get one, were taken sooner because they're cuter and junk. But really... there were just less of them. Sometimes people came for us, but mostly Nosh was our... uh... 'mom.' But she did a great job! She reminds me of... you know who..." Looking away. Oh. Amethyst. Yes. Right. I try to make up with a nod. "I kinda think that the whole reason she never introduced 'leaving' to Cooper and me was cuz she enjoyed us a lot... wanted us to stay with her, maybe. Or maybe she just liked Cooper and kept me because—no... no. I joked like that but he always corrected me... aahh, it's so weird to have fond memories of an orphanage and not actually be one of them~"

Giggling, I glance back at him. "But you thought you were!"

He shrugs. "I guess so. Still. It's kinda funny, this life I've fallen into." And he smiles again, murmuring, "But I'm really thankful for everything, too. You, and Droplet and Pippy... Harei, Lone—Bliss and... well, everyone. I'm thankful for a whole ton of things now."

We sink into a comfortable silence. His voice and mine turned off, we can catch the stepping of feet in pointy shoes diga-darting about the big, open chamber and its wooden structure hanging around the field of flowers. Bea and her family and Nick Nack himself all must be bustling in, ready for... the event. It makes me wonder how long the two of them have been... hooked up like this. How long they've been waiting for today to finally come—and how many scary obstacles like Bea's parents they had to overcome. I'm sorry, but they're like a goth group or... something. No idea how they're gonna get through the wedding. It'll be fun to see, though.

When I turn around, curiously watching all the faces swarm me by, I try to pick out the few I actually recognize. There's some of the tiny stragglers from the orphanage, there's some older kids diga-Dino easily picks out—and Cooper and Morn herself—and I think I caught the sight of a plastic, green mask. Oh, hey, Saurhead's here too, then. That's nice. I guess. I mean, I can't see his face, but otherwise I just get this feeling in my chest that he's ready to fight for the power of love. He just... looks like it. I diga-dunno. Maybe it's because the mask and the tuxedo—simple and black—clash. A lot. Swirling around also includes that one short guy with the flowing orange hair past his chin that Nick Nack called... Joe, was it? And there's a few kids, too, all goth... like. Oh my gosh I called it. Wonder if one of them might be related to Bea. The girl with the soft orange hair and the skull clip might be... little sister? Looks it.

Diga-Dino's waving of his night-sky hand in my face takes a few seconds to recognize. "Heeeyyy," he whispers, "Everyone's comiiiiing. I think, like, all the parents sit in the front row. We allowed here?" I shrug. Mumble a half-thought-out probably in return. He just sorta shrugs after me and we slump into our spots again. The uncomfortable array of black clothing to our immediate left quickly catches on. And then, to the further right, past a couple of random people sitting around, lie the likes of some swanky-haired siblings who must be related to the one and only Nick Nack. Diga-don't see any parents, but...

My best friend pokes at me again, pulling me up and around, yet again, with him. "I spy," he whispers, "with my little eye... someone very pink."

"Please diga-don't play this game with me," I moan.

Soft laughter. But Rosie's there. I freaking see her, though she hasn't seen us. I'm not sure how; there's only like two lines of three rows. Like... six. Six pews. How long diga-does it take to notice friends sitting in one of six pews? Well, then again, she's Rosie: all arguments are invalid. Diga-Dino, snorting at the stare my face has diga-donned, tries again. "I spy... with my little eeeyeeee... someone in... blue."

"Raptin is not here," I mutter.

"Wasn't talking about him," he returns.

"Oh?" I glance at the person to Rosie's left. "I hate you."

Smirking right by my face. "I know." But it's not true, and that's really what we both know. His shoulder burning, softly, against mine, we both giggle and squeak and diga-duck like the diga-ditzes we are when her crawling, magenta gaze scours over where we'd just been. I wonder, then, if she knows we're here, and she's only pretending against it. If she's... scared at all. Startled, I turn forward again, bashing my head against my best friend's shoulder in my lovely diga-departure. He diga-doesn't laugh, merely offers a little apologetic beam as we scoot back into our spots and wait. The congregation's filling and the ceremony's about to start. I'll try my hardest not to sleep as it begins...

because I'm very tired...

Some guy... who I think might be some minister guy—I'm sorry, I really diga-don't care—begins the long, endless diga-droning preach, and _oh_ my _gosh_ if I ever get married it's not gonna be by this guy. Why the heck is Bea's family so... formal? And creepy? I check over at their heavily-lidded relatives, and like I thought, those diga-dull eyes of theirs glow to the diga-droning symphony of boring, poring pain. Even Foster yawns all the louder in the back of my head. I swear he's been on my side. From that warm little back of my head, I think I hear Bliss casually eating any of the flowers in the spare vases that they keep under the softly moaning organ just yonder. I'm not surprised. She is Bliss the acro.

Finally, I give the open chamber the looking-to it hasn't had yet. I'm so bored I might as well stare around the place. There's... not really any walls but pillars supporting the wooden roof. Small, soft streamers of color, pink and blue and silver and—wait pink—hang along and within the roof, woven for the flair of it. The pillars support a few too, as well as tidy little flower pots with petal-boasting creatures inside of them. It... smells of diga-dandelions, soft and fluffy, bright and hopeful diga-dandelions. Not... roses. Or lilies. Or, uh... any sort of petals. Diga-dandelions. It's a bright, pretty view from the big, fat sun sparkling outside. Gosh, if we just booted the creepy family members and the preacher guy I'd be in love with this wedding placement. Remarkable...

The words so muddled in my head, as a diga-desperate effort I toss my head at my best friend, hair consciously flying toward him and me wincing when that stout man—no, not a man, he's some fluffy nomadistinian—glares at me without diga-dropping his words. Ouch. But, no, I'm out of luck: even he's diga-drawn to the voice. I guess because he's into old man voices for some creepy diga-Dino reason of his. Not even his freaking diga-dad sounds like that; though Mr. Richmond diga-does. No, I'd rather not think of those people right now. Rosie's grandpa... as fine and diga-dandy as the guy is, he can't help being related to her...

Oddly, just this nudging thought in the back of my head reminds me that this guy's so hard to listen to maybe for some other reason than sheer boredom. Like, I diga-didn't even manage the first word. He simply diga-dropped me in the diga-dust, and that was that... I struggle to think of some other correlation—and once I find one quickly diga-decide against it. The fire and ice we left back at home... ulgh.

From the side of the stout speaker forms the blonde we all know and love: and like I thought he's worn a fine, white, crisp mask over his eyes instead of his red. Hands neatly folded, diga-dressed in white, satin gloves, his utterly black suit feels constricting. Probably because there's not a feather in sight on these fancy shmancy clothes. But... I mean... his siblings, they're all rowdy still. Guess he's trying to convince the Ginners they're from the wild side of the family or something. Poor guy. But I guess as long as he's won his prize in the end... Shaking his head of short spines of blonde hair, he smiles, just the slightest. Nearly waves at us. Probably can tell how bored I am. When just about nobody's looking he mimes with his hands curled up like a pillow, head against it. Slight giggles.

I have no idea what the plan is but he'd make a fantastic diga-dad one diga-day.

When Fluffy Mc. Preacher Man glances a sly eye, Nick Nack's back to his formal pose, his smile nonexistent. So... that's how a soul as bright as funny as his diga-drags through the strict family's proposals for their diga-daughter. He fakes it and finds laughter in it on whatever comes up in the end. Like a sunset, he rides through the night and continues meandering on under the guise of the moon, fearless and ready for anything... anything for the girl he so loves. Oh gosh; I start fanning my face in fear of the tears I know are coming. Glancing back at my cracked glaze of icy orbs, he nearly laughs out loud yet again. And then I have to bite on my hand to keep myself from wailing.

Wherever Bliss is, I'm sure at least half of these emotions are coming from her. Wailing, wailing in the back of my head, she sobs, _Ohhhhhh, get married already! Ohhhh, oh oh ohhhhhhhhhhhh!_ In the end, I diga-decide not to ask who she's talking about.

I think he goes on for a few more sentences or something—the fluffy preacher guy, that is—but I honestly can't tell anymore for his sheer lack of chin, more it just bleeding into the cusp of face and neck. The entire lower half of his face bobbles like a ship in a storm, up and diga-down again and again and I feel seasick just watching it. How the heck is everyone else acting so normal? I feel like a diga-disgrace or something; although still, I've got Nick Nack. The groom himself agrees with me. That's... that's something.

When his milky eyes from behind the mask begin to glow, I get that, oh, it's starting. Bea must be—I'm sorry—beahind us now. Diga-dazzling... of sorts in her black, fluffy diga-dress, rolling and rolling in gentle and swooning fabrics. It's all diga-dark, just like I thought it might be, but she still manages under the volumes of night sky. Guess the Ginner blood diga-does run in her. Awkwardly I pass back and forth between her family and she: pale, almost porcelain skin; soft orange hair; big eyes, usually kinda diga-dull. Yeah. She matches. There's no way these people are creepy strangers just trying to crash the party. That short girl sitting alongside them, shifting a little nervously every once in awhile but otherwise perfect to their picture, the one with the skull hair pin, she's gotta be the younger sister Bea never told us about. I'd poke diga-Dino and ask what the heck her name was again but he's busy. She... sorta looks like a... Lyla. No. Lola. Sort of.

All eyes have diga-dawned upon the bride: she almost seems to shimmer as she steps closer and ever closer to that stage on the edge. Her hair even sparkles, just the slightest, like someone diga-dumped glitter scraps over her head: but it's more than just some material form, right? It's... alive. And it's connected to her. And I think just about everyone but the majority of her Ginner family can tell pretty well just how much this moment weighs in their heart and how much it'll mean to them, and how time-worn it'll become until it's all the more precious throughout their paths—path—in life.

 _RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH_

I'm... pretty sure that's not when the... wedding bells were supposed to ring. Or... that they sound like that. I've never heard wedding bells before buh—

 _RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHH_

My heart shoots through my chest. Quietly I diga-decide, fighting through the sudden wind of fatigue, that no, those aren't wedding bells but something I've been trying to avoid this entire time... I try not to think about it, try to run away from it, but now I'm so tired and the chills of ice that consumed me not so long ago have returned. But... even so, these are diga-different; they're special in their own, awful way. Frantically I shove my best friend out of his seat, not really caring anymore if someone'll yell at me.

Diga-Dino goes diga-down. His head shoots toward me, diga-dazed like he's been sleeping for ages. My chest throbs on the inside. My eyes diga-dart around, trying to settle on him and yet unable to meet contact with. Slowly, not even sure how to tell him, I raise my pair of tiny hands and mimic them, thumbs on bottom and the other four cupping above: open, closed, open, closed. Then I slam them together. A faint throb rocks me for that but it diga-doesn't matter. I'm trying to tell him something... someone importa—

 _RRRRRR_ RRRR _RRRRR...RRRRR_ Rrr _rrrrrr...rrrrrrr_ rrhhhhh _h..._

is here.

This time he hears it too. Diga-desparate now, I glance back at the puffy nomadistinian who came all this way to yap his face off and get two people married, and I wonder if his eyes were always that... wait, no, not even Nick Nack's eyes are that white. I gently knead my feet through the wooden, creaky floor, backwards, backwards, backwards; it's all the same to him. He utters a soft, low growl, the shadow of a great beast inside of him now flanking the boards below. Its burning but broken figure contrasts with the whites of his eyes: all the more eerie. My heart is about ready to explode.

Diga-Dino gently grabs my hand and forces himself onto his feet. I'm not sure how, but I feel... trapped. In another world altogether. Because no one's yet reacted to us, not even when we crafted all that noise and I chucked him out of the chair. No one's turned toward us. Well, no, that's a lie.

"TURD!" Wait; I run and jump past the stage and manage to slide in front of our friend, the man who will get married today and as much as I absolutely hate this I'm going to try to stop it. Head bobbling, weakly, my best friend yells out into the air and immediately, loyally, the thrum of four pairs of feet, fins, and webbed toes surrounds him. Bliss explodes from a flower pot to my diga-direct right and summons herself in front of me, blooming into a more ancient-compatible size and shaking the diga-dirt out of her already musty face. She sneezes; the sound reverberates. Out from under my chair, a wave of fire evaporates in the air.

All Bomba says is _I told you so._

Shadows line along the walls, heads and heads and fearsome amounts of spikes that might actually be teeth. Creatures just outdoors and readying themselves to cave in. Frantic I glance and shout at my vivosaurs and they try their hardest to shape as large as possible in some form of hope that it'll be good enough. We really need some of that right about now. Thankfully, I see, my head wrapping around the rest of the room, that I'm not the only one who couldn't sit tight and pay attention, not the only one to miff that creepy spell; the short girl with the skull hair pin launches from her chair, sending scary creatures whose bodies, sown together from bones and stitched by diga-darkness, make me want to break diga-down and cry, but I know she's on our side. She diga-dashes back and awakens the sleeping faces of two grubby others, just as pale as her but not quite related, one of them in red frames and the other sporting a thick, green mohawk. She's practically yelling at them; eyes gently peel open.

They have scary bone monsters too but I'm pretty sure they're on our side as well so I'll try to live with it. Nick Nack, from behind me, sends out his own little friends—including a rough-hided creature diga-drowning in jewelry—and someone bright pink stands on her seat and I want to cry but out come her fifteen vivosaurs that she carries on her at all times.

As we manage in some way or another to prepare, Pippy makes the mistake of raising his head. Sure, the gazebo's tall, but it's not _that_ tall. His head pops straight through and, with a big-eyed squeal, flees out of its new home immediately.

In the next five seconds, roughly half of the roof comes tumbling. The air of something horrifying stenches across the breezy chamber, sending bouts of coughing into the mouths of those aware enough to see what's coming. By that time, a great, gooey eyeball blinks past Pippy's gap—the pupil itself a sun of black into his tiny head hole—and the breath spews yet again. When it stomps, just once, the entire gazebo threatens to lift off and fly away, shuddering people and vivosaurs and rainbows of light off pitched upon the ground. I stare at that eye; it slowly comes to me that it's still in his or her spiritual form.

They want us.

Just like... just like...

I'm so tired...

An acrid stench I could only describe as power, raw and hungry and filthy and smelly and monstrous power, contaminates all indoors and out. My eyes bleed into tears until I can hardly see where I'm going. Quickly a yellow-brown mix of hide bumps against me; I only manage to climb upon Bliss in some sorry mixture of luck and memory. Even then, I slip once or twice. Her tail whacks me into place, oddly comfortable and safe between two sandstorm-yellow spines. I struggle to hold her, hug her close to my shivering self. Bliss comes off as warm—safe, especially safe. It diga-doesn't take much time at all for the bloating, crushing song of Bliss's feet to be a comfortable background for what's going on. My fingers settle around the band on her neck. Like the wings... I wish I could fly away right now...

Gently, I blink through my tears, strive to check for random bits of diga-debris. Foster's out there, I know. I can feel him in my head. He's... not yawning. I'm not sure how or why or if he really is a complete idiot, but I can feel his presence... further. Squinting my eyes, there's no way, but I swear I can tell that he's outside. His yell ripples through my spine. _Hey! There's two of them out here and one inside! Don't lose focus this time around! Don't... you know. I'll be back._ And he's gone, just like that.

I diga-don't know how to feel.

 _GRRRRRRRRRR—GUHHH._

Just that I have a place to be and somewhere to belong in. Angrily I rub past the nightmares in my eyes and train my concentration on the yellowed head beneath me, her bated breaths in my heart and pounding through the configuration of my soul. Focus... focus. Focus on Bliss. In her head are scattered, hatching thoughts of seemingly random crossed together: jumping connected to faces of people still staring hypnotically at the pudgy man and the sound of falling boulders in our ears. She scatters herself left and right, smaller than some of the vivosaurs but larger than others like Bomba and Lone, her size rivaling even diga-Droplet's a little. She stomps erratically, and I begin to wonder if she's lost her marbles, when one of the people nearby bats an eye at me. Oh. Ohhhh.

Laughter in my ears, she goes on. I recognize a pattern of hers: spinning in circles in her stomping, diga-dislocating motion but catching all the right people off guard, sending others into the fray. As a couple of the kids I can recognize from the orphanage raise their sleepy little gazes toward the big fat acro and the digadig crowning her, I can't help but feel like... I've forgotten something. Something... important that I was just...

When a swinging claw like that of a monstrous sword narrowly misses my head, I suppose I've got bigger mistakes to worry about fixing. Bliss ambles yonder from it, hissing at the closeness of the attack, Bomba tearing by her flank for one quick moment as an eruption of flames spoils from her maw and collects at the hilt of the blade. The facade of the big, bad vivosaur slowly, slowly, diga-dripping and falling, melts. Only at one tip, and only in one claw, one sliver of a section, but it diga-disperses and peels away, all on its own. Sounds of diga-destruction run like a diga-drizzle from all else, but the clarity of the moment silences me. A small bubble of safety sits right here; and I'm sure as long as that monster knows my tiny u-raptor has herself perched, this isn't the best place to attack. No wonder she hates burning; it's so... strong. Poor Bomba.

An arid scent alights like a candle, contaminating the fray; I shake my head. Diga-dizzy. I glance around in front of my flaming little friend, her muscles bunched and ready to diga-depart; my heart can't help but race and will me to ask her to stay, for us to stay, for it to be okay. Right here. And this way, no one can find us, and I won't have to diga-deal with this much more. There's... others. So many others. So why diga-do we have to—

Bliss's thick, soft, vibrant tone picks up like an old tune after smashing her face into something. _Yeah, you're not having fun about this. None of us are, I'm sure. And you're... the most scared out of all of us here, for all I know. Heck, Dino looks like he might as well be fighting Bullwort of some other idiot all over again._ Her voice lulls me as she moves, as Bomba leaps off for some other morsel to burn. _But if you can't do this, then none of us can. We're not connected to him; we're not connected to Bullwort, either, for that matter; heck, we're not even connected to Nick Nack, and that man has a real man reason to fight!_ I almost—almost laugh. Not quite. _Without you, we'll all be stuck; and maybe there's a ton of people, but only you can be yourself. So like..._

 _Still... I really diga-don't want to..._ It's a little pathetic—oh, no, no it's incredibly pathetic—but it's truth. I mumble, _It's hard... sometimes._

 _I know._ Her head turns back for me. Hazel eyes try to catch mine; and they diga-do. _They're scary. I'll try my best to pretend they're... like... volcanoes or something. Volcanoes aren't thaaaaaaat harmful. But just... we gotta keep going, eh? Maybe I'm not primal, instinctual nutso, but we know what to do... and you know, too. Deep breaths. Let's go net us a volcano._

She's so stupid sometimes...

When I raise my head again, bits of smoke and fire blaze into my eyes. It's a rough journey into my lungs. Still, I catch the smallest sliver of my bangs peeking out, too. Sometimes the strangest little things get me to smirk...

Glancing to the right reveals a massive, twinkling toe wriggling through the hole of an entrance. It's almost transparent, on a whole new level in its own right, shifting and straggling and the nails were bitten diga-down: this thick, pulpy, purple toe. Bliss snorts at the sight and runs off for it. As it sweeps closer and closer to her ever-quickening body, she shifts herself in the last moment and lands her back of spines into the beast. I offer her some of my own stamina and yell at her to climb the thing—or at the least try to. She bites her face into oozing scales and stuffs it through the mass of furious, sizzling purple, but her notably-sized sandy hands manage to paw a way up, and up, and up the massive thing. And if we... get diga-deeper into it... then... we might just find its—its weak point. Its core... And it won't have a chance to... diga-do what it... wants to diga-do. Ha... rather not think about that. Shaking my head cuts through the wave of exhaustion yet again as I ask again and again of Bliss to climb and climb and land herself on top of the toe.

We stare at its diga-disfigured self for a moment. My acro mumbles, _Oh, turd, now what,_ her gaze scouring the sour beast and awkwardly itching at its surface. After a pause, she hesitantly glances back at me again. Her rigid face forms a frame of confusion.

"HEY!" Curiously we look away. There's some guy with thick, red spines of hair—oh oh yeah him. He's really struggling to keep up with this furry beast of his, brilliant cherry pelt zigzagging in shades of black as it yowls, leaps, and lodges itself into one of the holes Bliss made. Cheering, my acro quickly forms another from the top, diga-diving not only her feet but her entire self into it, wriggling me off of her before I get as much as a word out. My body slams into the wooden floorboards below. Suggestions of half-chewed marks exaggerate in places, but otherwise it's a little shiny, mostly whole. My traumatized diga-dress swoons about me.

The boy—Cooper—glances toward me again. Sits beside me. Glances back at the monster toe. "Sooooo," he starts, has a sort of rough, cinnamon-like voice. I sort of glare at the toe as it wriggles around there. "You know Dino well..?" My eyes pore into the ground below us as I really diga-don't feel like having this conversation.

"Yes. I would say I am, digadig," I mutter. It comes off as a little sassy—whatever; good. While I sound gritty and worn from the short start on the battle, my voice still whistles in on that hint of flame. Maybe it'll burn him. What am I saying; probably not.

"After all," he goes on, myself half listening, "you'd call yourself his best friend, wouldn't you?" Please stop. I consider actually diga-ditching this guy and going in after Bliss. At least she won't pester me like this; though she'll probably need some of my untouched stamina later. Ugh, I hate this. "You've known him for... quite some time, yes? Now, I'm sure it hasn't been anything as respectable as seventeen entire years at an orphanage, but, I'd have to say you seem to've grown onto him quite quickly." Kill me. "In fact, I'd just about say you might even be his... very _best_ friend, if there would be any competitors for such an honor, no?"

Closing my eyes, I just cough. My head hurts. Gotta... try to play this cool. The toe pushes air up past us. I think Bliss is in some part of the main foot or... ankle or something. Going further, higher. It's coming to be a trial to breathe. Good sign? Her entire field of vision consists of organs. And purple. Focusing on this, I mutter, "Of course, of course. Yes, I've known him for quite some time, diga. We're very very close by now." I pause. Oh, what the heck. I might as well. "There might be loooots of girls who... er, um, no, that failed, uh, um, I'm his best friend, yeah, diga, right, yes." Or not.

I try to swallow in the silence as he's thinking. "Mmmm. I see..." Of course you diga-do. "Welp. I supposed this day might happen, if he was forced to leave me and Nosh and the others behind. I kind of knew that I had to be ready for this." Is he... letting me off the hook? A new weight I was just ready for seems to've fallen from my limp shoulders. "Just... take good care of him. He's weaker than he thinks he is. Nosh and I... swore we know him best and... you just gotta be careful around him."

Oh, not like I've been experiencing this the past _months_ or so. No, no, _no_ , I have not a clue _whatsoever_ on what you just might be talking about.

Head spinning, I grimace in some attempt of a smile as I swear I hear Foster's yawn through the trees... followed by the pounding and pounding and pounding of watery fins...

So he went back...

 _HEY JKONNA! WE'RE ABOUT TO CHEW OFF SOME VITAL TURD THAT Y'KNOW VOLCANOES SEEM TO HAVE. THING'S GONNA GO TUMBLING AND DISAPPEAR. THERE'S LIKE FIVE VIVOSAURS ON HIM STILL. ALL GOOD WITH YOU?_

Bliss, you are a lifesaver. Not like I'm telling her. I yell back, _YEAH, THAT'S FINE. THEY'LL LAND IN THEIR MEDALS OR SOMETHING. LET'S GET THIS FIRST GUY OUT OF THE LOOP ALREADY. MAKE SURE YOUR ANDRARCH FRIEND ISN'T TOO STUPID._

A snort, soft and simple. _Yeaah, yeaaah~_ And she's gone. Takes some of my energy but she's been diga-digging in some ancient's spiritual body as it tries to use all it has to possess someone; not gonna blame her.

Immediately my vision starts flashing. I should've seen this coming; shaking my head, I try to work myself through it, reminding me that if I can't go on, there's a fine and diga-dandy chance someone might get hurt before this is over. I'm sure diga-Dino's working on the second ancient right now, though... so we should be okay soon. It's not even my head anymore: my entire brain... aches. About half of me registers when that boy, diga-Dino's old childhood friend, lets his shoulder near mine, lets me rest against him. Perhaps he's not so bad... I wonder these words to myself and hang onto them, repeat them, until the diga-dizziness subsides, and whether or not I should let myself diga-do this so soon, I stand.

 _BLAMMMMMmmm..._

The world goes spinning. Shining particles of ancient bits—volcano bits?—shatters across my vision and the rest of the island. There's a great groaning, a tree about to topple: while the crashing, slamming sensation of diga-desctruction can't be missed, the tree never hits the ground; the ancient diga-disperses. My heart hammers in my chest past the stillness of the morning. Is the sun even allowed to be this bright right now..?

Slowly, tiredly, the two of us make our way back into the center of the chamber, where, in fact, another explosion is ready to occur. A mass of water creatures I swear wasn't here until a few moments ago collides against the beast; enough vivosaurs as well as Pippy climb and force upon her enough weight to send her tipping, spinning, falling: ashes. I wince through an untidy sneeze. My diga-dress; hopelessly I glance at it. Not too bad... there's rips and tears and bits of blood, but I think I can ask that diga-dress lady to help me out with it later. It'll... it'll be okay. I think of all the people and those two ancients and all of the power and diga-destruction they easily caused, and yet how well in the end we could fit together, and it makes me wonder.

Bliss's crazy wrath...  
Bomba's fiery terror...  
Foster's friends and family...

Wait. Wait a second.

People are settling as the stout preach sets himself up and a thick, gooey, glossy, shining, feathery thing shoots out from his body, leaving him to crash into the stage. A tiny, green mass, squealing from below, stutters from out of his landing point and catches herself within the diga-dress of a frozen bride. Lustrous claws coalesce against the girl, and the creature hiding with her, and swoop each of these through the skies. All I can register is the teary scream in my head: _Guuuysss! GUUYSSS! WHAT'S GOING ON!_

 _OH MY GOSH MORIE WHAT DIGA-DID YOU DIGA-DO._ I stare helplessly at the ascending figures, paused until I recall— _PIPPY! GAH! GET YOURSELF OVER HERE!_

A new kind of diga-determination I'd been voiding throughout the scheme prods at me as, sure enough, a chocolate-brown sweetheart tosses his head to the sky. That beast still hasn't gotten that far yet. Still a chance; still a chance. Diga-desperately I scramble up and for and onto Pippy's whip-like tail, and then further up that as he gently, awkwardly tries to plant me to the middle of his spine, where I continue hurtling, heart aflame until it comes like a stair as more vivosaurs aide to his ascent. Lone's purple, feathery face; Harei's softly smiling maw; as well a creature with hair on its head not unlike the nasaur herself, only diga-dressed in sequins of black and gray scales, lined by orange.

Wow. I diga-didn't know his battle form was this big... Cautiously I step over him and in some vain vivosaur ploy he can't help but giggle. It's an annoying laugh.

Finally, I shimmy up from the grip of diga-dozens upon diga-dozens of Foster's water friends, and the yawning futabi himself, until finally, at the tip of a conglomeration of skulls, I manage to leap myself into the softly-strung feathers of an ancient soul. It beats erratically, the entire being; _THOOM THOOM THOOM THOOM_ in my skull in my hands in my head in my soul. My heart squeals.

Everyone has a... weak point... Wincing, I squirm upward, clambering through white sequins of slick, shiny terror, heart throbbing in my throat. But I can't tell if it wants to run away or... join this... thing. Gah. We are not getting possessed!—a-again! Stubborn on my face, I keep crawling and scratch my nose while I'm at it, glaring through the storm-like interior. The unstable beating inside of it only grows stronger and stronger, slamming against my head with each swing. But the closer I get, the closer I am to having that stupid... in my hands... I'm almost... almost...

A milky sensation overcomes me. Slogging through it takes time. Little bits of time. Not too much but it's runny, thick, hard to think. Like a fog... but this fog diga-doesn't guide my anywhere. My head's gone numb to the sound of the heart-like creation; I just... have to keep... keep going. Big, diga-deep... diga-deep breaths, keep going...

It hurts... I cough... I move—I think I move... there's nothing else left but shining and egg-whites and goo that struggles to eat me. Glancing at my diga-dress, I wish I could fly away...

When it's in my hands, I'm a complete mess. Snot and some sort of tears diga-dried on my face. Head shaking, throbbing. Body twitching. Irregularly. A lot. Coughing, some. I feel... swollen. Inflammations... like monsters are inside of me. But they're not; I shake my head; no they're not. I think of Morie, held hostage, and Bea and everyone who'd come... and of the flowers just outside, the meadow that surrounded the gazebo. Petals upon petals...

Gently, I snap the thing. Sparkles surround me... I'm... floating...

It's far up... and my head... diga-dully, it aches, it aches... and my throat is sore from the slamming of emotions my heart diga-did unto it...

floating...

All I know in the end is that someone caught me: no name or face of any kind swims amok in my head. I feel... secure, though. My head hurts... it hurts a lot... I'm so tired...

A voice, like a breeze, twirls around me... "Haa-haaaaah... Jkonna ran... and ran... and didn't let no one stop her first. Maaan... You wouldn't think such a thing would happen... It's pretty impressive... eh..?" I can... almost tell who it is... almost, almost... I remember the words someone else told me, to focus, focus... that's it. A head swims into place above me; warm, gray eyes watch me. A tiny grin. "Hiiiii..." he murmurs. Still smiling. I try to return the phrase but my mouth crumbles. Guess not... now.

The exhaustion and the thought of what I diga-did in the end... the thought of all I went through... S-sure, my reflexes aren't so bad, but... the cawing, the ancient, the ferocity: I'm still shaking in place, just a tiny... bit. It was scary... really scary... but I diga-did it... anyways... My cheeks are wet... they ache... so diga-does... my nose. I try to rub at it; small pangs squiggle through me.

"Heh... eh..." I watch him, and he watches me. His face thickens, tightens; he's holding onto me, and we rest against each other, and it feels... a little safer than everything else. Awkwardly... he goes, "Man. Nosh and Cooper and the orphans are gonna totally have a fit cleaning this dump up again... hah..." Not really sure what to say, what I can say, I evidently hiccup. He giggles again.

Gently his hand is over my head. Little pats. "Good job. But... it's a shame that... they had show... and stir like that... like them..."

Our eyes meet. His next words I can hardly hear, they've tuned so low into such a tiny, pained whisper. "Isn't... it..?"

 **Wow, I haven't written a battle scene in a really long time... so I have no idea if that went okay... oh my gosh. Hahaha... Seriously, though, the last battle... like, physical attacking and everything... might as well have been a year ago... wow... TTwTT**

 **That chapter's wild, but on the other hand, yaaaay, Bea and Nick Nack got marrieeeeeddd**

 **Foster: narrow-eyed snort**

 **Jkonna: it is beautiful Foster be quiet**

 **Foster: more snorting**


	33. Do: Dear Rosie

**Dino: Oh my goshhhh I already get another chaaapteeeerrrr**

 **Me: Yes =w= Yes you do**

 **Dino: yaaaaaaassss**

 **Lone: -LONE SUPPORTS OF THIS CONSTITUTION.-**

 **Me: owo Lone. Since when was this a consti—**

 **Pippy: -C-CONSTITUTION? ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?-**

 **Dino: OF COURSE THE BRITISH ONE WOULD SAY THAT**

 **Me: GUYS WHAT HAVE YOU STARTED**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 33: Dear Rosie;

 _Dino_

Flowers delightfully _crunch, crunch_ with the grass below our feet. Sleepy, exhausted, obviously, even if the wedding's passed some few days now, I don't really care how many of them fall beneath the demise of my toes. Big, black, hoarded shadows of toes. Good-bye, petals. When I step on some thorny rose for the umpteenth time and squeal to the universe about how unfair everything is, a bright and sugary cry cuts in: "Diiiiinooooooooo! That's _rude_! I do happen to be named after them, anyways! Can't you ever have some... m-manners? You're so mean!"

Giggling, I toss over my shoulder, "Yeaah, yeaah," and then the light drains from my face when my foot leaves a _glunch_ of a spot of something leaking from my wounded foot. Oops. I should probably be more careful. Rosie's gentle pastel pink face flinches over in red when the sound first finds itself heard. Just to annoy her, I stop in place and stamp my foot to the ground, once and twice and three times, even. Squeaking, she shoves me aside, our backs slamming into the gentle hug that only a grassy ground can give you. Most preferably the Park Area. Though there's others...

Pink twin tails of bubblegum hair spring into my face. She hesitates, like this is what she wants me to feel, before finally slouching to one side. A great, blue expanse stretches out before the both of us. It's our world. Y'know? It's... ours to do what we want. To live just the life we're destined, the one we desire to have for our own.

Quietly, the girl by my side whispers, "I was only joking, Dino."

"I know."

Can't help it. Smile a bit after it.

"You're ruining our touching moment..." A little grouchy, but hey, that's because she's Rosie. More fire and sparks than smoke. I feel like, if she was a vivosaur, she'd be this hulking mass of fire—maybe like a siamo or one of those flameheads—and she'd try to yell at everyone what to do, but also because she's Rosie, no one'd take her serious. But there's nothing wrong with that; it doesn't make her any less precious than the weirdo she already is. The precious Rosie weirdo. Hah. Rosie as clear and concise as I can make her be.

Her feet kick against the flowers below us. Softly, casually, like her toes tangle with petunias all the time, and this is just another one of those days. Her eyes give away all the feelings burning inside of her. Bright magenta irises of emotion... and, like, that one feeling I don't talk about anymore, and stuff. The one that I might've had for Duna, and might've had for Rosie, once upon a time. Quickly I pretend it's not there and try to whistle. Before Rosie reminds me how bad a whistler I am, I stop.

A sea of blue rolls and tumbles from above. If I yawn, really really big, and my eyes get squished from my cheeks in that yawn, and the air around me breezes past my teeth, it almost feels like I can swallow the world whole. Until of course it ends and my tire fades, at least a tiny little bit. My eyes jump around the place, to the petunias at our toes, to the sun in the sky, to the winds of the world all around us: to a bright pink face. Like, like porcelain, but pink, too. Shiny with it. And a thick blush, like a vivosaur's tail, curls all the way down past her cheeks, to her ears. Her little Rosie ears that nearly get swamped by her massive, fluffy curls of pink bubblegum hair. When she sighs and searches through the air, she could almost be painted, just a person in a picture, if not for the fire dancing in her eyes.

It scares me a little.

No, that's a lie, it scares me a lot. I'm honestly just waiting for her to mention something about some other thing that connects to this somewhere that ends up with me in a really bad situation.

And there's just about nothing I can do. My hands are tied by the same roses I stepped on, lots and lots and lots of times, many a time ago. It's only now that their thorns have pricked me. A new sort of fear kind of jolts in my chest, and when I glance back into Rosie's gaze, it's like a fireplace trying to melt away the snow on the outside to keep everyone warm on the inside: only it's already pretty hot in the Park Area, so we don't need fire, so Rosie, why don't you just—please—stop? No... didn't think you would. Awkwardly I start to slide my eyes from her, only for bright bolts of magenta to sear me and stick me into her vision.

At first it's quiet. A lulling temptation. Sorta... testing the waters. Seeing how far it'll get into me; please don't even think about such a thing, let's all just be... friends or... something. "Dino... I know that the wedding was scary, and Bea's parents were even scarier, but we both saw the love that the two had for each other in their eyes, didn't we? We both saw how they laughed through it—well, when Bea's parents weren't breathing down her neck—and how truly happy they were, in the end?" Every last word leads, like a ladder, into the burning depths of my soul, the bits of me that she herself most probably set on fire in the first place. "Isn't it? Can't you imagine it?"

How badly I want to yell at her to please, please stop. Instead, I try to screw a cap on my manliness, see Jkonna in the back of my head like an old, withered nanny asking for my safe return, and manage out a meek little mumble: "Y-yes. Maybe. Maybe I could see it." Okay I need help. And no, not freaking... romance trials with Droplet, or... some helpless advice from, like, Thomas; I don't even know where he and Iggy tripped off to, right now. Just that they're not here, and they're not anywhere near my poor, poor best friend.

"Could you see it?" Oh help me.

"M-maybe, Ros—"

"Y-yes or no, Dino! Yes or no! There's nothing else you can tell me!"

I'm going to die today.

In some horrible attempt to draw attention away from her words, I raise a hand for the sun. Its shadow addresses my face, even from its little splotch on its big, blue sky. Like Harei and swimming lessons. But I'm pretty sure I left all of them in the sunlight with Jkonna... maybe Rosie came knocking, but I'd feel guilty if I grabbed them all, too. They're tired, too. It's not fair for them either... Angrily, I scrunch up my nose and glare through the shadows. Rosie's words peacefully circle me, for now, but I'm sure she'll start yelling at me again soon.

Only, maybe not yet. She is waiting for my disgusting "yes" or "no" response, and help me, Rosie, but if I tell you the truth, you're going to end me in your sniveling cries about _just_ how _much_ you _love me._ And simply, I will die. There is no way out for me, and I guess that's okay. I just... need to focus and try to figure out how to not break her heart into smithereens. Clearing my throat draws her eyes straight for me yet again; it doesn't really click but a sudden idea tears into me, and I almost cry out of this horrible joy.

"Tag you're it!" Leaping, I twist off from her, tail in the air, and dart for some other corner of the Park Area. The sun beats down on my back like Harei after swim lessons. It warms me, strengthens me a tiny bit, makes me feel just that maybe I stand a chance. At least I think dinaurians are faster than regular people. Sure, I... haven't been outside all that much in the past forever; so I haven't been moving all that much in the past forever; and maybe I don't have Lone making sure I don't pass out from running. Oh. Turd. She's going to catch me.

Frantic, I toss my head over my shoulder and there she lies. Face stricken, bright and blushing and so very pink, hair bouncing along her face, teeth gritted: the emotion bleeds off of her. Our eyes connect, for this one moment I wish I didn't have, and sucking in a massive breath for one so small, she screams.

"COME BACK HERE, DIINOOOOOO!

"STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM WHAT YOU'RE AFRAID OF!"

My heart lurches; I snort a little. Since when have I done that? I haven't been running at all in ages as it is! Shrugging, trying to put it past my mind, I focus on legs that are beginning to give up on me. When I really squint my eyes, and my heart begins to lose its speed in pumping, I glow. Just a bit. Just enough to blind Rosie off-track and successfully turn myself into my vivosaur... dinaurian? Whatever, my battle form. Claws, shiny claws, thick, little body, soft, spiny hair. Now I'll be a little faster. It's not like it taxes me or anything to change; I mean, battle forms are used for protection purposes as it is. Protection. Why waste out when I need this to keep me going?

I blow my bangs from my face. Well, at least, I think they're bangs. Bits of spines that sort of collapsed in front of my eyes, and by my ears too. Gosh, I don't know. Whatever; dinaurians don't worry about that kinda stuff—but I do know from experience that he knows he shouldn't but poor Raptin totally does. Dad's hair, all luscious and creamy—though I never really took after him—always looks nice, no matter where he is and what's going on. Man, I really am thankful for my Dad... he's caring and strong and all calm too—though he doesn't always get the jokes I make. I guess he worries about things though, a lot, and keeps it from others; he does have the great task of being king of the dinaurians, no matter how few of us are left. What does it feel like... for him to sleep in a lonely bed at night? But he's also Dad... so I guess he thinks more about what he's thankful for than how much he misses her. I know he's thankful for me. I can see a lot of him in his eyes. He's... caring like that.

Oh, gosh, I wonder if he's clingy. That's a funny thought... but no, really, how much does he think of me? And... and think of...

Grunting, I whine at myself for getting all distracted. I'll trip over some roses or something if I'm not careful. Hey, even vivosaur claws are sensitive, like little precious baby lilies. I don't like stepping on sharp turd. It hurts. Do I need another reason? Rosie's panting and crying follows me here; struggling, I continue on. We sort of end up going in circles, since the Park Area isn't that big, but I don't mind. Anything that'll buy me time away from her. Heck, this light jog I've started up only drags her farther and farther away from me. I'll just have to remember to turn around when I get too close to her the other way around. Or I could lap her. That'd be fun too.

Because my mind always goes there, I idly think of my best friend while I run. She's... well, she can be fast, like scary fast, sometimes; though she's also fine when it comes to climbing and stealing Tramp, Diggins's vivosaur, and those little things. And yet, she wasn't fast enough to outrun... My gosh, my thoughts are getting so dark today. Maybe it's Rosie's fault. There's not a spot of clouds up there; I'm just gonna blame her on it. Still, idly, I think about Jkonna. She's really dried up now... We all thought she could last in one wedding ceremony; maybe it'd even boost her crushed spirits... and then...

Gosh, why am I so awful? Softly, softly, I laugh at myself. Little spots of guilt poke holes through my lungs and fill me with filthy gunk.

If it's any relief, her vivosaurs didn't bat an eye at the entire ceremony. Bliss still smells like the tulips she ate. She acts like one too: bright and sunny, smelling sweet, just a hint of yucky compost on her breath. Bomba's all glaze-eyed like Bomba usually is; Morie's maybe a little traumatized but she has all of her friends with her so she'll be fine too. And Foster... never acted any differently. He's just the same old... foggy weirdo.

Hesitant, I glance back at the sky. Same old bright and sunny. Same old blue.

Hey, why can I hear Rosie's sobs so well? Oh... I slowed a little. Shaking my head, I start up again, crushing bits of grass and dirt alike in my wake. By the end of this, I might've even made an all-new trail... probably not. Thick, icy eyes flash through my vision. I struggle to blink. Fiery hair. Dark, chocolate skin. It's hard to see past her. My heart throbs in my throat. I wonder when it got there...

 _Dino! Oh, Dino! Is that you? I didn't expect to be here when I woke up!_

My entire sense of focus is thrown out the window. I can hear it shattering into billion and billions of forever-lost pieces. _PIPPY. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE._ He's not supposed to be here; no one is. Like I'd asked him to, out from his medal—stuck in my hair oh my gosh—he flies, landing into a relatively small version of himself. Purple eyes search for my gray; his head, which lies in tandem with mine, tries to draw a smile out of me. _PIPPY,_ I weakly cry yet again, speechless.

His eyes turn back and scour the Park Area, more curious than I wish he was. _Hrrmm... you're both in your battle form and endlessly fleeing and unspoken terror..._ His mumbling makes me squeamish. I try not to focus on the seismo to my right and continue on my semi-leisure going. He can go cry to her or stay with me; I don't really care at the moment. He always comes back in the end. _Ohhhhh?_ And he saw her. _Ohhh, Dino—D-Dino, is that Rosie? Are we running away from Rosie?_ I hang my head a little but try not to say anything. _I'm going to go say hello to our dear chum! Rooosieeeeeee!_

Not surprised; still, his disappearance, as sudden as it came and as sudden as it went, hits like a stone to the heart. I splutter past my thoughts and try to focus on my task at hand: running from Rosie. Out of nowhere, another stone of a thought hurtles into me, and this one's followed by another one, and another, a gray mass of hurling plain piercing through me that only I can see: guilt spews through my eyes in the form of clear droplets, ones that'll disappear into the moor. But I know that I won't forget them.

Very numbly can I feel the thoughts of Pippy's rumblings going through to Rosie; then, later, his rumbling sigh that neither of us are giving up, so he goes to sit off by some shady tree or something. And then he's... gone. I can hardly feel him... waiting for me. It's more like he dumped me, if anything.

Gently, I try to raise my head through my onslaught of myself; but that aches, too, so it sort of falls limp from my attempts. I think about laughing for how stupid this is. My head hurts...

Her face comes into my head again anyways. No matter how shaky and shattered and stubbed I feel like I've come, Jkonna's faint grin continues to sweep high over my head and through my bandaged thoughts. Cold bits of ice glue into me, and I shiver, all thoughts off of my running. I try to swallow. My breath hurts, my heart hurts, so I just stand there and shiver and sigh, because I'm so awful. And it's stupid, but that measly boy... that one vivosaur... While I caused all of her problems, he was able to help her. A freaking... futabi. Freaking Foster. He made her laugh and smile and grow angry, even, but he got a reaction through her: what the heck am I? Where does this put me? And that's just it. I don't know. But I wish I wasn't so stupid... and I wish I didn't let myself get so hurt... and I wish she didn't feel so bad now... I wish I hadn't stepped all over her... when I was running... away...

At some point or another I must've morphed back into myself again. There's no other way Rosie's arms would reach this far around me. They even fold over each other and connect in my back. Emotions in my throat choke at me; for now, I'll just try to breathe. Let her shove her face into my shoulder and feel... safe, if she so desires... hiding in a boy who destroyed his favorite person... Glittering little memories of Jkonna sparkle across my gaze...

Even after everything, and even if I hate it, this realization dawns like a sunrise that I'm not quite finished. But I'll be better now. I'll do better now. Jkonna... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, couldn't protect anyone, not even Pippy, or Rosie, or Raptin or—or anyone. I'm sorry I got this far. But... I'll try to help you now. I'll do my very, very best to put my feet in the ground... and stop running.

And the funniest part is that Rosie has no idea what she's caused for me now. I'm sorry but it really is.

When our eyes meet again, I understand something else. Through her snot and her tears, and all the gooey turd that she's accidentally coated on me by rubbing herself against me and hugging herself to close to me, she's even weaker than I was. Even weaker than... when I fell down that mountain, and she was in that one dream where she cried for me and I was riding Droplet with her omias horn, and I really, really fell. I fell hard. And past all of that, she's... she's really weak. On her own. She has a delicate, fluttering heart, one she puts out there in hope someone might help her.

She's got her grandpa. He's cool.

Right now, though, right now, it's all on me. Swallowing, deep breaths: I understand I'm gonna have to go out of my way, now, and I'm gonna have to bring her comfort. All of her sores, I'll try to dress, and from her sores I'll go to her wounds, and from her wounds I'll move toward her heart... her poor, broken heart, and from her heart I'll bring comfort.

But I can't... love her. Not the way she wants me to. Not anymore. But that's okay... because I still do love her, and she's still close, in my mind. I can't really... drop her. But I can't love her, not _that_ way. And I can't kiss her, either. I don't know if I can kiss anyone anymore. I hope that's okay.

The fire in her eyes was doused by this pain of hers. Slowly, I blink. In that blink I try to put a smile. She doesn't really react much yet, though her cheeks get redder. Not the reaction I was looking for, but I'll take what I can get.

"Rosie?" She winces—her whole body shudders—when I whisper her name. Big, hopeful eyes drenched in those salty tears of hers search mine. Beg for mine. So I give them to her, and I look at her, and again, just a bit, I smile. "Rosie... um... you're a very... good girl; you know that?"

Somehow, I'm not sure why, but when my voice rolls over her she immediately eases, a great wave of Dino crashing down on her. I guess I sound... a little soft, kinda sunny, maybe a little rugged, too. Oh gosh, I am not one of those "dark and mysterious" boys, so if that's what you're looking for in my wince of a whisper, please go search somewhere else. Like, I don't know, Holt. That guy who was Bullwort's son. Maybe him, yeah. I try to get past that thought.

But I think I'm softer more than anything. And I think that's what Rosie wants in me the most. I try to raise my weirdly adventurous little tone, so that I can tell her, "You've... gone through a whole lot. I'm sorry that I was missing for a lot of it." Almost... I almost said "we" but... I think she just wants to hear from me, isn't so interested in my poor best friend right now... so I go on. "I'm sorry that I left you when you were really weak... I was in a tight spot, too, but... it—still, you weren't doing well.

"Rosie, you mean a whole lot to me. I like how you're very determined in your favorite color and how you wear it all the time. I like your scary vitality. A lot. And I like your vivosaurs too. They sorta remind me of you, and I'm sure they work hard keeping you from getting into even stickier situations." Oh, I know how much her spinax loves her and hates me. He beat me up way back when. That wasn't very fun.

It's not until the words come out that I realize how much I mean them... how much I want her to feel at least a little happier, a little warmer... or something. How much I want to comfort her. Even if I can't do what she really asks for. But... seeing that slight glaze in her otherwise burning stare, she might already know.

Suddenly shy, I duck my face. "And I'm sorry that... a lot of things happened. And that now I don't want to kiss you anymore—to kiss... anyone anymore." It means more to her than you'd think.

 _Her face touches against mine.  
Like if I decided I didn't want to do the _mouth thing _with Rosie...  
The only other thing my mind can keep track of is the _mouth-thing _. It's not like someone is_ mouth-thinging _me like a ton and it's all gross, but... well, I hear these voices._

Mouth-thing...

Her eyes dart toward me. I am trying my very hardest to be serious and kind to poor, sweet Rosie. "That doesn't mean I... don't love you, but I... can't love you in... _that_ way, anymore. I can't do that... for anyone. And I can't... kiss anyone, feeling _that_ way, anymore... But I do... love you." Maybe this conversation is awkward, and it hurts my heart trying to put my feelings into words, but it helps her. Rosie's like that. And I want to help her.

For a time, she's quiet. So I'm quiet too. In this attempt to be as non-awkward as possible, my hands sneak over and gently try to, like, curl around her... I try to hug her back. My head hurts from all these feelings being thrown around the place. Honestly, I'm relieved more than anything that I don't really have to go through this anymore.

Finally. "D-Dino?" Then it's my turn to dark my gaze toward her. "Dino, maybe it's not... right of me to ask... but, um, um... if you ever, ever feel that way again..." Oh my gosh. Rosie. "Can... can I be the first one to know?"

And finally. A little smile. A little laugh. My heart heaves from its pains when I laugh in return. "Yeah, sure! But don't get your hopes up, please."

"Eheh... no no, it's okay. I, um, I understand, diga—Di... aaaaaah!" Shaking her head, more flustered than ever—these things happen sometimes—she chews at her lip and tries again. "But, um... di—di—Dino. Dino. And, Dino... if you ever want to kiss someone again, you'll let me know?"

Face red, it takes time to convince myself to nod. If... I do, of course.

"Oh, but..." I mumble. "I mean, there's... she's..."

"Oh, oh, yes! Yeah. I understand. I mean... she's... related, after all. Just don't fall in love with her on me."

"Y-yes..."

It's hard to mention those sorts of things. Gah.

Quietly, and again, she starts to laugh. Maybe I'm even quieter, then, but I laugh too. And it lasts a long time... and it's a good feeling. A very good feeling, seeing her small, pink face brighten in some sort of joy again. When Pippy returns himself only to see us broken down in tears and fits of giggles, he decides something apparently went right, and maybe he's a little disappointed too that I can't love her again, but he's happy. And he laughs in his soft, funny voice with us. So I guess... it'll be okay, then. And that's a nice thing to know.

So we smile... and so we smile.

 **Anyone notice the relative shortness of this chapter? X3 It goes with the next one, and they're both a little shorter... I've been calling them, in a way, "letters" to Rosie. So, yay for that? Eheh. X3**

 **Rosie: ;u;**

 **Me: yay!**


	34. Ja: I'm Sorry

**Me: yay, more Rosie apologies!**

 **Jkonna: =w=**

 **Foster: yawns loudly -Do we have to?-**

 **Me: … guuyssss ;w;**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 34: I'm sorry

 _Jkonna_

My hands fold in on each other from where I stay. They... remind me of seashells, in a way. Clasped, their holes connected to one another. I guess it's diga-dumb, but my mind's a little bit of everywhere right now, so I... can't help it. Scary. There might be a blanket around my shoulders—it looks white and fluffy to me—and I think maybe I'm sitting in some form of chair—but I can't be too sure. Only... I see the world in front of me. It's very bright. Where am I..? And how high am I sitting..? Somewhere that lets the breeze outdoors reach into me. It's... very hard to see, though. Everything is... sort of blurry, and hard to look at, too. Is there a good reason why?

In place, I rock myself, just slightly, sometimes. Mostly when I think that nobody's looking. It's like a secret. A bad secret, but it's still my secret, because nobody sees it but me. Behind me there isn't a breeze, so I'm not just sitting somewhere outside, only halfway... and high up. What kind of a place is that? Half... outdoors? Up high. Hm. Maybe there is someone out there who can help me with this. Everything just looks so... foggy, like I can't help but stare through ruined glasses, and this is my only access to this here world of... of mine. Scary. Something was scary. Is anyone looking, or..?

Sometimes I peep back diga-down... at my lap, and there's creepy diga-dots of color on it. When I touch the colors, they feel rough. Very rough. Pointedly rough... like... like sandpaper. Colorful sandpaper? But they're curled up into balls, and I think, if I could feel them, they would be warm. Because they look warm. At least, the red one diga-does. They take rotations, so I can't be sure if the others share in this... the green one and the yellow one diga-don't look as warm as the weird one. The weird one is orange, but also it's striped in some pale creamy color. And the texture is all wrong. Maybe it's special. But the red one is warm and I like the red one the most. I try to look for it and I think it's with me right now. But where diga-did it come from? Maybe that diga-doesn't matter.

Soft whispers... if I focus, sometimes I hear bits of them. Like chewed-off promises. But they're not promises, are they? They're very gentle. I feel like if I listen too hard, maybe they'll fall apart and I can look into them, and see all of them. Maybe they're questions. Or orders. Or just regular... banter. Banter can be fun. Sometimes. What diga-do they talk about? Not... me. Am I alive? Wow... that's a diga-deep question. Am I alive... um... maybe. I can... feel warmth—I think—but I know that the red one is rough, and the yellow one and the green one are rough too, but the orange one is weird, soft and squishy but thick. A little... wet. And it smells like seawater. Which is... gross. Oh, if I can smell, maybe it's not smelling much, but maybe if I can smell, then that means I'm alive.

The clouds are thick around me, and they're above me too. Still, a lot of everything else is blue, and the stuff on the very bottom I think looks green. Spiky green. Spike green, like spines on... on... things. Like the green diga-dot, those things. If I were to lift one of the diga-dots—could I hug it? Although I guess that's not very important and won't really diga-do much for me in the end. So I... diga-don't care that much, I guess.

I was tired. There were colors and sparkles, and a big creature and the green one, and I was very tired for time. But there was also black, black like shimmering waves, and a smile, too. Smiles... look... like... white. Curves on porcelain, white faces. Orange hair, very soft. It was a good smile, I think. It's hard to tell if I'm tired now. I just sort of... stay here. All the time. It's been... a while. A short while? A long while? It's been... a... while.

It's not fun looking far away than what's right in front of me, but sometimes I'll turn my head to one side, and sometimes when I turn my head to one side, I'll see something hard and white beside me. It's like a mold. And I'll reluctantly take a hand from my lap and touch the mold, which is a cold, white mold, but I think it's like mine. Sometimes it's warmer. Like I wasn't the only one out here. It's not very cold here. As far as I can tell. Right now, though, I stay... I stay forward, and forward alone. Ribbons of white accompany my. White is... a friend. It is simple and listless, and cold, like snow, but not that cold.

In order to tell if someone is by me, I have to practice. I have to try and look their way and accept, if someone is there, there is. Sometimes there's someone who I think looks like me, diga-dressed in white, though, and I diga-don't think I'm wearing white, but their hair is a shocking array of turquoise. Sparkly, like spines. Short, short spines. But they're not the only one. Sometimes it's another turquoise-haired person, but it's not them, because they're pink and their hair is too long to be grown in any short amount of time. And sometimes it's... it's... how diga-do I... diga-describe... gray?

But today it's none of these. Now it's all... pink. A big and relentless pink. So I diga-don't like it, but it's not like I can make it leave. That would be hard and... not very possible, after all. So I have to wait while it stays there, which is annoying... makes me feel awkward. I take to the bar in front of me, the white one that stays there, and glare at it. I wanna tell it to make the girl go away, but I diga-don't think that's possible. So the girl stays there, and I only continue to squirm in place. The red one perched on me raises a bit of it to look back at the other girl, the one I diga-don't like. Only, it backs diga-down too, and so I'm left alone in my opinions.

What if I diga-don't want to listen? Oh... then I guess I just diga-don't. That's... right. But she's going to talk... and it'd be rude not to. She hasn't visited before... have I ever been so worried about what other people think? Or is this new? Am I... new? Things feel off. Things have felt off...

The voice starts, whether I wanted it to or not. "Um... um! H-h-hi! Heeeyyyy! You're looking at me, right?" But I diga-don't want to look at you... I diga-don't care... but she wants me to... but I should... But... But... Reluctantly I diga-drag myself toward her. I'm rewarded with a smile. How... cruel. "Jkonna... what's with the face? You look so depressing!" She hiccups. "Dig-diga-depress—gaaaah, not again! The second time _todaaaayy_!" When her face reddens, it's funny, so I try to laugh. Her eyes are stricken when they look at me again. "My _gosh_ , please act like yourself! J-Jkonna, please... please yell at me! O-okay! D-D-diga, y-yell at me! Tell me about how stupid I am! How much you hate me!"

She oozes in diga-desperation. I cast an eye toward her that causes faults of shudders to ride her. "Stoo-ped?" I call. Lazily. Flickering my eyes toward her. "Is... that... all?"

Her shudders break into true earthquakes. "Eeeeeekk... D-Diga-Dino was right when he said you weren't okay, Jkonna. You d-don't sound like... diga-don't—gaaaah—at all! Ewww, what happened to you! Where's Jkonna! Y-you're not Jkonna!" Before, there was silence. Only now, the little red one growls.

So I'm not Jkonna... then who am I? Slowly my gaze falls toward my hands, diga-dark like clay. And I wonder who this would be. If I am not Jkonna. Is there a name I go by? The little red one's growls intensify. I wonder if petting it would change anything. Maybe not.

So then I diga-drag my gaze away, and I think for myself. Only, the pink one, who has so rudely diga-destroyed my sense of white and silence, has continued, and I diga-doubt she's going to leave any time soon. How... diga-disappointing. "Jkonnaaaaaaaa! S-stop... I... G-Gah, that's right... Dino said I need to be quiet and be calm, or else nothing will change. If I get all emotional... If I get all emotional, then...

 _Diga-deep breaths; easy breaths.  
I... I want to protect you, okay? I want to protect you...  
And maybe if I learn from all of my cringe-worthy mistakes, I'll be able to save you. And then when I save you, you can help save me from all the ashes inside. Diga-Dino?  
Okay..? Okay..._

Memories glisten. Who is... wait. A fresh torrent, a waterfall of horror, envelops me. What if it's scary out there, and I want to stay here?

"J-Jkonna... Aah, Rosie. Rosie. M-me. Come on... b-be fierce. But not too fierce. O-okay, me? O-okay... be fierce but gentle, and don't yell at her! Eep! Eep... D-don't yell at her... diga-don't—geeeeeh..."

I try to harden my sandcastle exterior, but waves of diga-disobediance lap at my failures and laugh at my tears. Flames that may or may not have once lived inside of me splutter. But I diga-don't think _they're_ alive. Maybe. Maybe not. I hope not. They shouldn't be. I'm going to wait right here where it's safe and never leave my sand castle again. I'll use wood, and rocks, and lots of sharp things to make it strong, and I'll keep it safe, and I'll never leave. I'll stay here, clueless and frightened, but not quite... but diga-dull. Where it's _safe_. If I let those words try to hurt me, they'll be in my diga-defenses even worse than this... but if I pretend, maybe they'll leave me alone.

She breathes heavily now. I diga-don't focus on her. No, thank you. "Umm... hmmmmnnng... what do I say to..." It's like she's sucking in the air, searching it for a reason. But eventually she lets it billow all out. I diga-don't focus. My hair nearly clumps in my gaze; I toss it back. Maybe I should cut it... It's so awfully long... and... diga-distracting...

"He-hey! Um—! Wait. No. No shout—hey, Jkonna, d-don't pull your head like that. It's not very... nice to, um, you. And I like your hair. It's so..." My focus fizzles out on the girl. She rambles, and she rambles, and I diga-don't focus on her. The lumps on my legs shift like they're uncomfortable. I'm not sure how, but if they came to be like so, then they... may as... well leave. But they diga-don't.

But then she says a word that I always catch onto, like some hyperactive... nasaur. "Dino said it might be hard..."

"Di—i—i-i-ino."

She squeals. "It sounds so scary when you say i—! Gaaah, Rosie, diga-don't shou—aaagggghhh. Okay... okay. Uughh. Rosie, if your stupid diga senses kick in, j-just let them slide... it's not helping to get upset about it, digadi—don't, don't... diga-don't get upset... nnng... diga...don't... get up—nnnng... Diga-don't.. Diga... It'll just get worse. Don't get upset." Her eyes flicker for me like fire. I feel bare, like she can see everything. What if I want to get away from her? But I can't... move. I'm stone in the ground. I can't... I can't...

" _Oh... Did diga-Dino say an uh-oh?"  
A shake of the head.  
"What did I do?"  
A shake of the head.  
"Is it hard to think about?"  
Hesitant nod.  
"...What is it..?"  
When diga-does it stop, digadig?_

I'm like... I'm like... that... now... aren't... oh...

"Jkonna?"

I give a slow, resolute nod. But I diga-don't look at her.

"Jkonna... Dino said that you're scared of... certain thingies, but he said not to name them, so I won't. But he also said that he was sad, because... ummm... you got in contact with scary things a lot, and now you're really scared, but that's not the scariest... part." She's struggling to keep her temperature cool. Struggling... not to yell. "The worst part is he thinks you're gonna end up like... like tha—at. Like how... he wa—aaas..." She's really trying not to raise her voice. It's a task. "So he's scared and wants to help you, and yet you... ummm...

Because I can tell it's what she wants, I raise my gaze to look at her. "He doesn't want that at all. He says it's scary that you sit there, because silence isn't Jkonna. Jkonna... eats silence? Did he say that... or was it some... metapho—aah, it d-doesn't matter, diga—d-diga. Gah. Um. So I wanted to tell you something kind of... really important. I'm—I'm—s-sorry! Eeeee—I'm—sorry... sorry... I'm sorry, Jkonna..."

Somehow it... feels... wrong. It just diga-does. I sort of lurch toward her and she squeaks but goes on. "I'm sorry, because... maybe he wasn't gonna have it, but back when he was hurt, back when _he_ was still not okay, aaaall the way back then, I could've given him space and understood that he needs some time. But I—I never did... G-gah, I bet Duna would've. So I annoyed him, all this time, until he finally really took the plunge and fell.. and maybe you scared me but I still hid away and didn't... come back, not until now. S-so I'm sorry. It's... all my fault..."

And now she's crying. Somehow, it's always been easy to tell when Rosie's crying. Maybe she cries the most.

"D-Diga... what if I diga-don't feel—"

"A-a-a-aaaannnd I wanted to... um... um..." Her twitching fingers somehow manage to plop a shining, pink... thing into my hands. I stare at it. Red... red exterior, but bright pink body on the inside. And a sort of crown on its head... very, very pink, just like Rosie. "Ummm, I've just been calling her different flower names, but... um... I wanted you to have her—she-she's not _my_ maia, I have a different one... but I wanted you to have one... because, um, Pauper liked that idea... so I listened to her—and—um—Clay, my spinax... he liked that too... Pauper said vivosaurs can help sometimes... a-and um stuff... so..." She's blushing, now. Blushing past her tears.

Blankly I stare as the tiny maia props itself in my hand, springing into a smaller version of the beast. It slowly waddles its way to my face, crowning itself on top of my head. I just kinda sit there in this world of stupor. For a moment, I'm not really sure who I am or what I'm diga-doing. But then again...

"Jkonna." Her face blares. "Jkonna... that's me, right?" Squeaking through her nods, like a sandwich, Rosie's hair goes everywhere. The maia on my head snickers quietly at that. It's first only a trickle, just a tiny diga-dropping of water... but as the thoughts collide and I realize, and I let any and all hopes of this hapless sandcastle slither from my grasp, and I understand how much these people care for me, not to mention just how wrong I feel, it breaks through. A wave. A monster. A storm. It tears through my ears, lurching me from me seat and into Rosie's usual pink attire. Bits of grass that were once on top of her latch into my hair. Not surprised.

Squeaking, I stare at her and cry, "But shouldn't I be the one apologizing? Diga... l-l-like, I'm the one who, like, yelled at you a ton... and I'm the one that scared you a ton, digadig! You mentioned that! And, diga, maybe you're not diga-Duna, but I'm not either or anything... And it's fine. You're fine how you are! Diga-Dino always liked that, y'know! He liked you, too, Rosie!" In my crawling over Rosie's tiny figure, we both end up on the hard, marble floor of the balcony and spill out, my fiery strips of hair, diga-down past my feet, everywhere.

I wonder why I wanted to cut it. I'm very proud of my hair. It... represents me, too. I like it. I like it very much...

Rosie's frantic body kicks back from mine, her face a mass of blushing and pink. "J-Jkonna? Are you... are you sure?" Her squeals intensify and my ears want to diga-die for a moment there. "JKONNA! YOU'RE OKAY, THEN! DIGADIG! EEEEEEEEK!" The amount of turmoil she's tossed herself into is almost hilarious.

Suddenly I'm self-conscious; it takes moments of me wiping at my eyes before I even know what to tell her. "U-umm... I guess so. But, diga... I'm still nervous. And scared. A lot." I blink. "So where's diga-Dino?"

 _And, uh, Foster? Why are you crying now? I thought you hated water?_

 _So I... see you're reacting, um, right now._ Oh my gosh Foster was crying. I diga-don't know what to diga-do with this information but Foster was crying.

Only Rosie's squeals can counter this. "He-he fell asleep on the bed! DINO! DIINOO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FALL ASLEEP!" Her helpless little body scrambles over to the big, white marshmallow of where his body's been swallowed by blankets and she yells at him until sleepy, gray eyes pull out of their tiredness.

Then he's yelling, too. I'm not surprised anymore. "WHAT? JKONNA? JKONNA?! JKONNA WHERE ARE—ON THE FLOOR I SEE." Let's not question how one magical jump lands him straight in front of me, his arms tight and just as strong as I always knew them to be, which isn't that strong but still fills me with the love that only he can proffer up. Because that's who he is, and that's who I am. "I AM NEVER GOING TO SLEEP AGAIN."

We're all quiet.

"Diga-Dino, my first order as a living and breathing Jkonna is for your not to diga-do that."

"Awwwwww, but, like—"

Rosie yells from her bed position. "No!"

He just sort of shuts up after that. Some amount of acceptance, I guess.

At first, everyone just starts apologizing at each other, because diga-Dino's so guilty about sleeping on the job. But then it's my turn, because I'm stupid and embarrassed, but then he's yelling that it's _his_ fault for taking me to the wedding, and it's _his_ fault for having a not man heart which means he's spoiled with emotion. And then Rosie pops out of nowhere and she feels bad for this and this and that and none of us really take her seriously—sorry, Rosie, it's just who you are—but we still smile and she's okay and we're all... okay. I think. I'm very thankful that they helped me... It makes me happy to know that I have people who care this much about me...

I'm reminded suddenly of all the moments it took to bring back my best friend, and again I'm relieved I wasn't so bad, that it's okay now. And out of nowhere I'm punched by the memory that in some three or so diga-days, a certain child is going to have a birthday and diga-Dino and I have to be there because for some unknown reason he adores the both of us, especially him. Again. Unknown reason.

We grow quiet. Not because there's nothing to say or it's sad now, any of us are sad, but because it's comforting, the fact that no one's yelling, and it's nice to know that it's really over, right now. Maybe... Thomas and... my head sways just thinking of them—maybe they're out, and maybe there's others now, too, and they're all stirring, but... it's okay. It's okay. I'm okay... Diga-Dino smiles at my tears, like they're cute, and pokes at them, watching them break and spill. I tousle his already-mussed hair and we both can't help but giggle, just a little bit.

Once the voices in my head calm themselves too, happy that I've finally opened and I'm not being... crazy, or anything, Morie proposes that I name the peach on my head before she grows rotten at the thought of it. _Rosie said she was calling her flower names, so maybe you shou—?_

 _Nodopi._

 _Jkonna._

 _Nodopi. I wanna call her Nodopi, digadig._

 _Wh-what kind of a name is that? Jkonna!_

But the peach on my head, who, in fact, diga-did not grow rotten, seems to smile at this. I can't tell, since her big snout, like the rest of her, is on my head. But I just get the feeling, like a cherry blossom in my soul, that she's smiled. And I know she's a she. I'm sure there's male maias out there, but this one's a girl.

And whether or not Morie thinks it's right, Nodopi grins a great Nodopi grin, and she murmurs in a happy but exhausted diga-drawl, _I am so done with flower names._

 _Nodopi_

It's very warm and sleepy in here, and the nest of bright, fiery hair I've built for myself is quite a suitable place to rest my thick lump of pink hide. They... called me a peach, eh? I guess I can be down with that. Better than flowers. Ulgh... I'm sick of them. The girl _herself_ sickens me. But it's fine; I'm fine, just about. Besides, it's not myself I'm interested in, but all of these lovely new sights around me. Itching the crown-like scales on my head, I can't help but snicker idly.

The three of them—two, if I don't count the rose girl—have gone mostly silent as of now, their sleepy and resolute faces slumping into the other. By this time, my reviver has fallen into a drooling slump against their bed. Makes me only want to laugh again. Apologies for my rough attitude; it cannot quite be helped. My lashes-lidded eyes arch some.

But the two of them... my new—master—I suppose and the boy of hers—boy friend, a space presenting no form of cuddle room for romance—seem to very well enjoy each other. From the way their pairs of eyes drag themselves down, I can tell just how much they've exhausted one another. I believe I was supposed to be some unruly form of appeasement for the redhead? Yes, I accept this, and I accept her. And she accepts the boy and all of her other vivosaurs which quickly swarm and go off to cry in her brown dress-like cloth. Rosie, capsized in her veils of pink, sickens me. Apologies. I'll be fine later. And still this is not what I find interest in.

It's her mind. Rustling and unhealthy was it just. Overshadowed by black like permanent marking utensils scorched her. And yet so easily, by the lilt of the Rosie and the boy she so mentioned, the one with my new Jkonna now, did they combine and find comfort within the grasps of one another. How... rather cute. I suppose. Funny as well. Very... Again I snicker. Silly, silly.

But sweet as well; rather endearing. I'm sure that... throughout all of the troubles, and all they have yet to finish, they've come to greatly accept and rely on one another.

Something I would like to learn from... or somehow pocket to cherish.

Precious... eh?

 **Me: So... that's the end of it. x3 I tried to... I guess show off, finally, a slice of what Dino was really going through this whole time, this awful feeling... so that's sort of there too. And Nodopi! But Jkkie's okay! Eheh... and she got a vivosaur out of it, from Rosie... maybe they'll like each other a little more now xD**

 **Nodopi: -Hmm. I see.-**

 **Foster: -I like her.- points fin**

 **Nodopi: ewe**

 **Bliss: -Oh gosh, the poor girl. Foster, get your fin out of her face before she ends up traumatized.-**


	35. Ja: It Once was His

**Jkonna: D-Diga-don't look at me like that! I-I keep my promises! Digadiiggg!**

 **Me: but last chapter you were acting like—**

 **Jkonna: LAST CHAPTER IS BEHIND US**

 **Me: unless I take you to another timez—**

 **Jkonna: STOP, DIGADIG**

 **Dino: owo What sort of horror scene have I walked into**

 **Jkonna: DIGA-DINO**

 **Dino: gaaaaaah**

 **Jkonna: WE WILL GO TO THE ORPHANAGE**

 **Dino: owo ...okay?**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 35: It Once was His

 _Jkonna_

When the boat begins its slow diga-descent into what really looks like a baby lake, it finally starts to sink in. For me. For him. I mean, I knew I was going to let myself be taken somewhere else one more time, even if I'm still woozy on my feet and about every step or so casts my diga-doubts. Nodopi, though, she's diga-dropped her luggage and settled fine with me. I'd like to... take after her. But I diga-doubt I can, since I am Jkonna, and I diga-did sort of screw myself in the first place, like jumping into a box very close to a cliff and then falling off of it because the flaps were too large to see past. That's only my entire life.

 _Aw. Jkonna, that's sad._ Foster's usual yawn cuts just short of sleepy. Curious slices of icy eyes follow the voice in my head. _You're being a very sad person... er, digadig. Whichever one. You should take more pride in yourself. Eh?_

I mumble, _Pride is embarrassing, and so is Foster._

He bristles a tiny bit. That catches me off guard. He never shows off his emotions so openly. I think the thing where he was crying changed him or something. _Don't turn me into your dad, Jkonna, because if I have to take on that role, I most certainly will. Not that I'll ask Morie or anything—but you'd better believe me._ Somehow, the thought of him in a certain lab coat and very certain set of glasses unnerves me. Maybe he diga-doesn't care for it, but I diga-do sort of have a diga-dad already, and he's pretty great.

 _Y'mean the ditz? Yaaaaaayyyyyy..!_

Bomba usually diga-doesn't help all that much.

And I'm not sure for what freaking reason why, but Nodopi I've learned the hard way is actually a some-feet-long maia, size rivaling Foster, who's eh on the larger range, but Bliss could still diga-dominate if she cared about those kinds of things. I know there's vivosaurs out there who feel self-conscious if they're not the tallest; maybe that's not my acro, but whatever, she still smells like tulip roots. I'm not taking her seriously until that's over. Nodopi seems... smarter and yet simpler than the others. Maybe she's just weird because I diga-don't know her.

From my perch on the boat, hands splayed out over the railing, diga-Dino shimmies himself up next to me. A big diga-Dino grin's split over his lips, his gray eyes shinier than they've been for a good part of... everything that's been going on in general. His fluffy, spiny hair spills over whichever way the wind goes, and for some reason his tail copies this motion. His chest, thick and gray like stone, he puffs excitedly as he waves and yells out for the little kids swimming, some looking half-diga-drowned in their clothes, which I question. But he's happy so I guess I'll live with it. Probably because of our last visit, they can easily recognize him—the little ones—and diga-don't go off crying like the first time. Well, yeah, the diga-dinaurian boy diga-does look kinda scary if you diga-don't know what you're looking at. And they're, what, four?

I always forget that they're four and without their parents. Diga-Dino... has his diga-dad, who we sort of just met and realized, so it's always hard to remember he came from a warm, homey place with a bunch of "brothers" bound together by the two facts: that they diga-don't have any other family members—probably—and Nosh has begun to count as the one they have. How many kids has she seen under her care over the years? Diga-Dino'd mentioned that there were ones older that him either taken or gone off to explore their own lives. So it's not like she was clingy to everyone...

Poking me, orange-scaled face cut like an orange into a sly smirk, he murmurs, "Don't see Cooper. But he did say something about flocking around that woman all the time..."

"You're so creepy sometimes, digadig!" I giggle a little to show I'm not completely trying to crush him.

"Ohhhh, don't I feel loved? Look at this! I'm practically _tearing up_!"

Laughing quietly, he lands his hands over my cheeks and diga-demonstrates the salty diga-droplets that slither off his, pulling at my face. I squeak, "Geehhhhh! Diga-don't! I'm not crying! And neither are you!"

"You just think it feels weird? Hah." His eyes glow warmly; I pull my fingers up to my face and gently pluck off the non-Jkonna material, a small smirk forming.

Before anything else happens, a great, ominous honking diga-demolishes all sense of self I had yesterday. _Honnnn-honn-honnn-hooooooonnnnnnnnnn!_ Over his own blaring horn yells the captain; "Laaaaaand-hoooooooo!" My eyes twitch because yes, we know, we're right here. The little kids from below squirm for cover behind the small copse of trees encircling the baby lake. Their tiny bodies, twitching with water and diga-draped awkwardly in towels or some of their clothes, or socks, in the case of this one little boy, five or six pairs of socks, their poor tiny bodies peel off in fright. There are times when I would love to punch Captain Travers, and one of those times is right now.

But my best friend pats at my head and gives my this underlying look that asks me not to terrorize anyone. He kinda knows what I'm feeling right now and yet he's acting like the older sibling. Pouting, I half nod, but in the end just try to wait. A random strand of flaming hair lifts from my side and straddles in the wind before tossing itself back into me again. I sneeze when it lands in my face.

 _Hrrrmm._ Oh. It's Nodopi. The new one. The maia. Her freakishly elegant eyes, a glassy, murky beige, flutter their lashes in my head. _So this is where we're stopping now?_ Not only that, but her entire voice gives off this feeling of... unease sometimes. It's stilted somewhere, makes me feel like I'm not good enough to talk to her. Oh, I hate people like that; but at the same time, I diga-do like Nodopi. My head hurts again. _Shall we befriend little boys today? How many? Are there any girls who'll want to dress me up or am I free to come out?_

Diga-Dino catches onto my train of thought. He snorts when he listens to my newbie. _Wellll, they always covered Nosh's vivosaurs in this thick, dark, like, brooding sort of mud and had fashion shows with them. So unless you like swimming, I probably wouldn't go for it. Which I think includes all of your vivosaurs, Jkonna._

 _I am going to smell like tulips until my body changes this itself,_ hisses a very certain acro. Well, I guess tulips are sweet-smelling flowers, but if you care that much, then go for it, I guess.

Unlike all the others, Morie's mango-slice eyes narrow toward me. She ticks on her talons the four who would rather not swim—including Bomba, who may hate burning but that diga-doesn't make her any friend of water—and sighs. _All of you! Even Foster! I don't understand... but if I must, then I don't mind looking after Jkonna. She shouldn't be left on her own right now... and I have a very keen feeling our dear friend Dino here will rather go exploring, whether it means losing his best friend in the process or not quite._ He diga-doesn't quite catch that last part...

Soon, just like the mom she is, a scaly-green body accompanies me in my arms. Her tiny peachy toes kick out in trepidation as she waits. Smirking, diga-Dino catches sight of my flailing m-raptor and lightly pats her head. She diga-doesn't growl, like Bliss might if she's having a bad day, but she diga-doesn't particularly enjoy it either. Her mango slits get thinner and thinner. _D'oof,_ she mutters as I try to scoop her into my arms more successfully, diga-Dino nearly slapping her muzzle. We both start laughing as she groans loudly in between. _You both are so childish!_

The captain, though there's sun in his voice, kindly yells at us through his ongoing horn to move on. "I'll wait here, since it's a long drive, even if this means the dig sites through me are temporarily closed! But the both've'ya asked and I wanted to deliver! Don't mind if I do~" Eventually he finally takes his hands off the horn and, when I glance back, may or may not be binge-reading one of those anime book things Tiff carries around everywhere. That or the newspaper.

We gently lead ourselves off from the great, shining white vessel, plopping just about into the mud and the water which almost makes me want to scream because while I manage to get through with just my legs and not my tunic wet, now some bottom half of my hair's diga-drenched. Half of me can hardly get myself anywhere with this weight spilling diga-down on me. Reminds me of when I was around ten and couldn't stand all the hair, but I was scared of cutting it for some reason so I used that hair band diga-Doug gave me to pull everything into this sloppy, gloppy bun for... five years? Three years? I diga-dunno. It was a bad phase. But I wish I had that now. Since I diga-don't, I awkwardly try to wrap some of my hair up around me like a scarf, only too late I realize I'll just diga-drench myself even more. But by then diga-Dino's pushed me into the water so what diga-does it matter anymore?

Morie, frothing and wet, stabs at his ankles with her tiny knives of love, sending him squealing and diga-dunked straight through the chill and into the enveloping mass of waves. The two of us laugh at him, a mass of bubbles popping for air. Swimming through the water isn't so bad. Though now everything I see is tinted in an alluring shade of green, I manage to plow my way through without diga-drowning or thinking so much about the last time I went "swimming" that I lose my mind. I guess that's a pretty sound goal to have. I'd rather not... think much about the ancient that got me into that position in the first place.

Once we manage to get ourselves to land, crawling and scrabbling until bits of muck and mud coat parts of our body and I have to shove my tunic of its seaweed before we get very far: we're both shivering. I moan and lean upon my best friend. He has no fire vivosaurs; the one I diga-do have diga-doesn—wait. Wait. Diga-desperate, I mumble, _Nodopi please save us from our past selves and make it better._

My maia... she diga-doesn't smirk or get all begrudging on me, but she diga-does snicker in that weird Nodopi way she seems to foster all the time. _Hmmmm? Well, I suppose I can help. You do look quite cold now... and it would be rude to keep you that way. Ohhhhh, but what about the children that might color me with muuuddd?_ And suddenly I diga-don't know how to feel about her other than exasperation. Well... Nosh might ha—

 _Oh, my goodness! Nodopi! Please act accordingly! I'll even sacrifice my sanity to those children if you just clean off my poor, dear Jkonna and her stupid Dino. It's not so hard, is it? Perhaps you're newer, but that doesn't mean all that much!_ Sniveling and yet haughty, Morie kicks herself from my slipping grip and diga-dashes toward her diga-demise. Diga-Dino and I share a look as her open-meadow green body of specked lightness leaves us for the little kids. Oh, maybe they'll like me more now, too, for, uh, giving them a peace offering.

Almost just as haughty as Mommy—get it?—Nodopi raises her lidded eyes and, with a smirk, fastens herself upon my head again. Thankfully she's not her thirty some foot long regular version but a little blip of a peach on my head, gently caressing Nodopi heat through me like a towel. Her smirk's a little annoying, but I can live with that. Gently she replaces Morie's spot in my arms. I proffer her to my best friend, who stares a little incredulously when he raises his golden-hipped ourano toward me instead. Oh yeah. Harei.

After that, we just go, vivosaurs hanging in our arms like babies in pouches.

Since there's no way I know where I'm going—even less now that my only vivosaur with clear diga-direction had to go with the kids—diga-Dino leads me through the small tree area. When we begin to pass the little kids by the branches and the brush, their clothing wrinkled and muddy and wet but fully diga-dressed, he waves cheerfully, and about two of them get the nerve to wave back. One of them, this precious little thing of marshmallow skin, squishy marshmallow skin, raises a tiny finger to his snot-leaking nose and scratches at it, his green eyes enormous in his head as he watches us. The finest of hair, tiny bits of lavender, coats his head. He is a precious little child and I love him already and I'm going to be overwhelmed by babies and their turd-colored hands touching Morie and their cuteness and Morie's diga-disgust. If not for diga-Dino I would melt right there and then. He instead tugs me. By a strand of flaming hair.

My hand leaves an imprint on his cheek. He apologizes, but it's through some unconvincing bits of giggles. So I diga-don't know whether to trust him. I probably shouldn't; we just go on. It's through a musty path tramped with a great variety of footprints, tiny and huge, bigger than diga-Dino's, which leads us through the small circle of trees and water. The land nearby, simple grassy bits of meadows, speckled with diga-daisies here and there, a couple of mansions in the horizon—wait—we wend off to the left. Diga-Dino eventually leads the two of us and Nodopi and Harei and everyone else tagging along to a modest but warm-looking area, a great mass of a home like a barn of hulking brown wood standing just ahead. Before he gets too near, I tug on his arm and ask why the heck there's so many huge homes around here.

He just bats at me, waves me off. I think I hear Nodopi splutter in my arms. "Well, Maia Island—yeah, that's right, you: Maia Island is kinda full of either rich people, or the orphanage, or the gazebo. Although Nosh is kinda rich from her fossil fighting days, too. There's other stuff but that's a pretty good summary. A lot of the people and the kids living in the mansions are snobs but they're also helping Nosh fix up the gazebo after the you-know-what, so I guess they're not that bad. Some of the kids grew up around my age... soooo I have quite the opinion of them." He flashes diga-dagger-like teeth toward me in some sort of grin. "Oh, but they're not important. Some of them are stupid people too. And annoying and... junk. But some of them made friends with some of the orphans... so whatever. I wanna show you Nosh. Or Cooper, in the least. Cooper is great. Oh wait."

He turns and I stumble with him. My hair nearly trips the both of us up and it makes him laugh, so I smile a bit too. But I can't help but bite back when I catch the spines of red hair of the diga-dark-skinned boy, like cinnamon, as he approaches from the other end of the trail, toward instead of away from that lake. His sneakered feet end in front of us. The guy's taller than me, but not quite up there with diga-Dino: still, they're close. They're... very... very close. Aren't they..? My head slumps over my shoulders, the ice cream of a cone that was forgotten by the sticky little kid.

Diga-Dino just pats my head again as the boy comes up before tossing him into a big diga-Dino hug. I sulk away from them as he shouts, "Brooo! It's so great to see you again! Been so long, yeah? I really missed you guys!" and my head just gets lower, and lower, and lower. I know he's happy to see the place he grew up in but I feel particularly diga-disregarded now. Maybe it's just my imagination... but are his eyes even brighter and softer now that he's here again? Cooper is his best friend... he said so himself, diga-didn't he? What if Cooper is more special? He's got seventeen years of a barrier against how much time I've spent with him. I shouldn't be feeling this way.

And yet I diga-do. And I can't stop this feeling and I shouldn't but yet I diga-do, and I can't diga-do anything about it but feel the tears nip the buds in my eyes.

Calmly comes the crashing, foggy wave in a storm. His lumbering murmur almost diga-downs me; _Oh, my goodness, Jkonna. It's like if you saw your sister again, and she remembered you. Wouldn't Dino feel this awkward, Jkonna? And you're the one that he wanted to come with in the first place. He didn't go on his own or anything._

 _Seventeen years,_ is all I can manage to whisper back to him. And it's true. I diga-don't know if I've even had one year. One measly little slice of his life. I'm just... I'm not even that far. Seventeen. I can't pass that. I never will. Diga-Dino loves these people and none of them are me and now I have to accept it... I try not to feel so tired. My arms around my chubby little maia tighten; it makes me feel stronger than I really am.

Still, when he turns around and he sees me, again he smiles, and again his hand tightly clenches over my wrist and he takes me toward the entrance of the building that he grew up in and lived in and a lot of his memories he thought had started in, all for such a long, long time...

Cooper follows instead of any of the other five billion or so things he could've diga-done. I feel threatened again, struggling to pull myself really close to my best friend so that he can possibly understand how I feel and what I think about this situation. Of course, I really diga-doubt he diga-does, and even if he diga-did, well, isn't he the true best friend... o-or whatever? Isn't he the one to take over or something? Is he gonna swoop in and take my best friend away from me after all, somehow try to convince him that he still belongs in warm and big orphanage, taking care of the younger kids and helping with their growing? J-just take him away from me? Diga-desperate, I glance at Harei's golden body and into her shining, diga-dark eyes in the unspoken question on my lips. She sort of stares at me, blinks feebly, and ends in shrugging. She has not a clue. Oh.

M-maybe I'm just acting stupid...

My hands slouch by my thighs as the boys talk amongst one another. Cooper's eyes, a creepy molten, inch toward me every once in awhile, like he's diga-daring me to step in between them and see what sort of jaws of his bite me. I'm only glued as next to diga-Dino as I can get; he can probably tell he's already gotten under my skin. Soon enough his slow, slurring stroll will wend its way around my heart and tie my emotions into a knot. That thought scares me. I just shove myself closer to my unknowing best friend as Harei peers at me a little wildly from under his folded arms. Her billed lips form a wobbling little frown, her eyes heavy diga-drizzles of unrelenting storm. Because now she's freaking me out, my gaze begins to wander toward the floorboards below. Nice and cleanly-kept. Swept to the bone. Someone's a good housewife player.

The threatening little peach in my arms warbles from where I hold her: head stuffed near my heart, her tail lagging more near my knees. Her great, pink composure warms me, she emitting fire like a sun-worn towel I hold close to my heart. In comes her smooth Nodopi diga-drawl; _Jkonna, wow. I'm learning very much about you, and I doubt it's even been a day for us to know each other. Iiiiiinteresting._ Now I just feel worse. My stomach groans. _Aw! Try not to fret, girl!_

From somewhere off far in the diga-distance, Morie's own belly reeks of mud, mud, and more mud. Uneasiness slides through my body as I shudder in place of her.

 _Hurmph. I don't know what to think about this one._

Foster grimaces; his oddly shining eyes belie his emotions. _You think what you want. But I must say she's grown on me, as well as her 'moms,' so either join the club or we'll make short notice of you. You know? Loyalty, friendships and Bonds? Oh... and of course... never, never forget trust. Trust is important._ I never thought he could make himself so haughty-looking and threatening.

 _Oh? Really now?_ she mumbles. I'm really not sure how I feel about Nodopi other than all the praise I've been heaping onto her. Her maia head raises itself toward me; she sparkles thickly, brooding, quartz in the making. Rose quartz. She snaps at that. _I am not a flower. Please stop._ Or so she diga-does thunder back.

Diga-distracted, my best friend plops one hand over my head and accidentally sends his forgotten ourano to the ground. Sailed back and all go splattering on the otherwise cleanly-kept floorboards. While he wanders off with the redhead who's spewing some other turd, I gently lift the poor thing, letting Nodopi fall into her med—

Or at least she'd be with the others, half in my head but mostly out of my sight, stored within a pocket, if she'd leave me alone with Harei. My nose wrinkles as I pluck the golden rose into my arms, staring diga-down at the squashed peach below. For the first time I notice the small but undulating bit of a sail upon her back: it's marked gently in white musical notes, which rotates through her upper-back area. I diga-drag a finger over the points on her spine and she hisses. _That tickles! Please stop!_

On a regular diga-day, I want to pretend that I'd laugh with her. As it is, I try to pluck her from the ground too; only her thick skull diga-ducks and she scuttles off from me, searching for the diga-door. I blink slowly. Maybe she wants me to follow her. But I'm too diga-drained to care about her thoughts right now. I hardly know her. There's Foster, who I feel like I understand, and Morie and Bomba and Bliss—and Harei, all of diga-Dino's vivosaurs—but she's... My eyes narrow as I pass her by, turning away from the diga-door. It's past a long, thick table that I find a small staircase and scale it. There's another entrance on the left, but I peek into a formidably tiny room and go further upwards, further right.

It's full of beds. Bright, fluffy, colorful clouds, each of them stretched by another rainbow of a color. The reds start from where I sit, moving further and further, pulling the rainbow as well as the string of light and shadow with it. Up at the final corner lies the purples and the blacks, and I find in the very midst of it all, in the heart of the chamber, with everything stemming from and connecting toward it: gray. One single gray mattress flanked in a bed frame of gentle white—birch—and lovingly diga-dressed in nicely-pressed sheets. Everything else... is around him. He's the complete center.

When diga-did this...

It makes me want to cry. As it is I try not to when I quietly storm into the chamber and plop on some random color. Brooding icy eyes meet Harei's worried blue. Her billed face rests over my palm: while it pulsates in a reassuring warmth, it diga-doesn't help much with the diga-distress pumping diga-down on me. When her eyes fill, the whites enlarging like lakes in her skull, I roughly shake my head, looking away again. The rainbow bleeds before my eyes; in the heart, just below a window where angry sunshine grazes, that's where I watch.

The two boys shuffle into their usual spots. Red and gray. Gray... I miss everything entirely when it comes out of Cooper's mouth, instead shoveling all of my attention on the other in the room, plopped comfortably upon his throne.

"Wow, I see everything's still done by the rainbow of destiny, eh? … Hey, shut up! Gray is _my_ color, and I don't care if some newbie took it while I was gone; I'm sitting on it either way! … Haha; no? It's still mine? Well, uh, cool? What the heck, did Nosh expect me to come back?"

My heart lurches and I feel crushed yet again. I'm so stupid... ugh... I guess it makes sense he'd want to stay home and never leave a-again or whatever...

No matter what he says, though, I just know that I can't hold up this crashing wave. It's going to hit me, and I'm going to diga-drown, no matter what words come from his mouth, and no matter where I think his heart lies, what it might diga-desire. Because he's _here_ again, and I know what Cooper wants: it's written on his face. All over. In permanent, diga-drawling carvings. These horrors leap into my eyes and there's no way I can get them out myself, no way I'll be feeling safe here.

But the fact that he's relenting to the tide, giving it the chance to toss him where it must, let it... take him... very far away... that just makes it burn. I burn. I hurt. I ache—I ache a lot. Suddenly diga-desperate arms toss Harei into a hug she diga-didn't see coming, my head tossed into her warm scales, where I rest and, even if I want to cry, let the feelings try to burn. Gently, Harei's slits of paws tap at my cheeks. It's a playful little motion. Makes the snot I was trying to hold in diga-dribble out of my nose, which gives both of us a reason to brusquely squeal and try to clean it with anything that won't be noticed. Blushes mirror back on the both of us and I try to bite back my stubborn tears.

When I meekly raise my head again—not like anyone's paying attention to me anymore—other than sweet little Harei—the conversation's switched tides entirely, and I'm lost yet again to the sound of the boy I consider to be my best friend alone. "h...yeah, that sounds like a pretty fun thing to do. We should totally go back to the Hill. Then, like, we can go sledding down it! And Droplet would love that! Oh, oh. Oh! Turd! You don't know Droplet! Ohhhhh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Where did I put Har—what do you _mean, friend, when you say who cares_? These are my children! Sort of! Oh gosh where did I put her... Uhhh... umm... Jkonna might... know where she... oh yeah. Totally. I shouldn't worry so much."

Quickly the both of us shove fists into the mouth of the other, keeping us both effectively silent.

"Huh? Why're you giving me that look and what is _with_ that tone? You're sassier than usual. Weeeiiird, Coop. Isn't that kind of you. It's not like I've been gone or anything. Geesh. When did Nosh let you get so out of check? I dunno what the heck that face means, but Jkonna's my best friend and I am very proud to be saying that. I maybe didn't know her for that long... but that doesn't mean anything! Gosh, you redheads just like to butt heads, don't you? Jkonna's always been that way, though..."

Bumbling eyes lead toward the boy. It's hard to see him through all the emotions clogging my way, but out of everything else, his fluffy, black hair, one single stripe looming in orange, this attracts me, and this I manage to catch. But he rustles in place, begins to lift himself up, and I'm sure if I was focusing on that boy of his I'd see the same thing mirrored. My frantic self shoves upwards and towards them, not quite as fast or as clear as them, so I take longer, but I manage to follow. I feel like the perfect five-year-old, complete with the teddy tucked under my arm. The teddy ourano.

But I diga-don't even get that much credit. I'm lost, on top of that. It looked pretty simple at first: a hallway and some diga-doors. Soon I'm forced to learn the reality of the situation and that I can't see enough to get me out of this mess. For some reason it brings back to mind when I first actually met the Cooper guy, at the wedding, when he rode his fluffy andrarch up to me and he and Bliss made their mark on the purple vivosaur. He'd seemed not so sociable but accepting at the least, at the very end, when I trudged off and saved poor Princess Morie from the grips of the... of the... yeah, um, that. I'd rather not think of it. And yet...

Frantic, I find the first window I can get my hands on and bumble straight out of it. The bite of diga-dirt on knees never felt so free...

Thoughts stagger about in my head. Though it's not like I can blame them, after my trip. Harei started tugging at me when she realized what I'd diga-done, squealing about letting her try to find the way for me, but I just took her with me and we both went sprawling. Though of course I held onto her... diga-didn't let the diga-damage get to touch her. Next to two pairs of fresh footprints—one obviously big and like that of a reptile—wonder who that might _possibly_ be—lies a tiny third, neat like teeth. I diga-don't focus on it and surge onward in some vain attempt to follow the redhead and the best friend. Vain hopes that maybe he hasn't forgotten me float around; unfortunately I can tell just how much he's remembering right now. Or Harei, for that matter. But her name diga-drifted from his voice. He called her. He knows. My heart only beats harder when I think about it and know how pathetic I am, but how badly I yearn to continue on and stop this all from bumbling into place.

Harei mumbling to herself in my hands, my thoughts too scattered to focus on anyone in particular, we go on. All of us. Foster's in the back of my head, mulling over something with some annoyed glare in his tone. Bliss is laughing. At me. Or Harei. I can't tell. She's just laughing. Bomba, eyes wide and glassy, picks at the feathers in her head idly. She hums to herself to the tune of Bliss's fits, Foster staring at them all along the way. Their snouts move sometimes; I never get so far as to hearing these words of theirs, precious and proffered off into the world. Harei, in my hands, warms steadily like a new day is diga-dawning. Not sure what I think for myself.

Just the feeling of the earth crawling in this diga-despair that I feel, that's enough for my heart to pull itself apart. I try to focus on that, if I'm gonna be thinking about anything, and tie it to my finger, hold it close so I can't forget it.

Their stomping reminds me of storm clouds: big, hulking clouds with big, hulking purposes about to unleash upon the world. Their stomping brings to mind little kids when they want it _their_ way and it diga-doesn't happen. I diga-dodge around bits of bark, but not all of them: some crown me in the forehead before I find the sense to move. My hair I trip over, the ends touched by stickers. Stickers and burrs and all kinds of twigs. It brings to memory the diga-day my best... my best friend and I followed where our Raptin-stunned friends told us to go, and we found the king of the diga-dinaurians; but we first visited the murals because I liked them. And then the two of us, diga-Dino and I, while he cried and he called me "Brokonna" and now I get to miss those diga-days, and his memories he'd tried to hide had returned, we encountered his diga-dad. But before all of that, before diga-destiny unfolded, we were in the trees; heck, I was ripping twigs from my tangles when we managed to crawl into that starship. And here I am now.

It's a long road to walk, you'd think. Just one diga-day and I'd take up how many words giving it diga-detail and forming it into my head. Vivid pictures and rapid thoughts, back and back and back. And it's not like that was the only route I followed. Sure, we had to uncover the "secret of the diga-dolls—or sub-idolcomps if you fancy" just to get him to that point. And prior to it were the diga-dig sites themselves. I hadn't really been able to open up to Bliss and Bomba and Morie because of all of my fizzy fears bubbling up inside of me. But I had moments of peace—yes, that's what they were—whenever I encountered the weirdo boy that made me laugh like myself. Who I could hit and he'd hit back. It was... fun to laugh with him. And even before that my stupid parents had to diga-die because of... very certain, um, things, and my sister had to forget about me and Watcher had to hate me, and it stayed that way until a certain diga-Diggins found me.

So why diga-do I have to keep going? Why diga-does everyone have to have such a complicated walk to take? Why can't it stop? Why can't it be gentler and consoling? Why diga-do these worries have to fill my head and make it scary? Why... won't they stop whispering to me..?

Subconsciously, while I move, to the tempo, I stroke Harei's golden little head. And I think. I think about a lot of things, but I think about the boy I consider to be my very best friend and most favorite being I've ever met and ever will, I think about him the very most. Because I hold him diga-dear to me, an maybe we diga-didn't meet all that long ago, but now imaging him _not_ being there has roughly become impossible and it's a hard stone to swallow, just imagining it. A stone I can't swallow. Just imagining something that's a blank wall in my head that I can't help but fear might be happening right before my eyes.

So I run. I run faster than I thought I could go, faster than I know my notorious hips could take me and faster than I thought my heart could handle without choking itself in adrenaline. Adrenaline and movement. So much movement. I never quite reach them because my head lodges in a tree trunk I diga-didn't see coming and it takes time and impatience on my part alone to free me—it's silent here—but I manage and I run and they're already going up that hill of theirs. A thick, egg-like, bulbous creature of a hill lodged behind the treeline, its bald spot of earth on the very top shining like a beacon of fresh hope. Really it's otherwise. I can hardly swallow, much less breathe.

Frantic fingernails stab into soft tree bark as I try to eat my screams and try, try not to regurgitate them into a reality. My hair, wild and flapping, covers over my face, all the way diga-down to my toes. It laps upon my back. It's diga-dripping over each of my sides. It's everywhere. My shaking hands can't flip the majority of it around me, and it lies around uselessly in notorious knots. But I like them, so I diga-don't mind... too much. Fiery sparks of long, thick, straight hair that's all mine, my hair, and never can it be anyone else's. This is... my body. My life. My soul was given this to travel the world in this here vessel, so nobody can take it away from me.

I puncture the rustling wind and the shadows cloaking it. If I could hear my whisper against it and its harshness I probably wouldn't recognize myself.

Sometimes when things fall out of windows, a part of them will break.

But I... diga-didn't fall... I chose... I chose...

Hazy things swim over my eyes, things that I can't recognize. They might be branches but maybe it's people; I can't really tell, but they look so feeble. It's like if I placed my hand on their heart, none of the things inside would start. What am I doing, alone in the woods? Would it be safe here, to stay—cuz I should?

I diga-don't notice the yells until they've gone around me at least three or four times, full circle.

 _Hey, Jkonna! Jkonnnaaaa! Lookit uuuusss!_

Three little able bodies on the hill. Red, orange, yellow. Half of a rainbow. But only half. It's lacking.

 _Yeaaah, we know. That's why we're a rescue mission, duuuhhh._

The one squirming in my hands gets hugged tighter as I watch them move. They sort of jump around on their feet, not quite huge but not quite tiny, either. The diga-droplets of people at the top can't see them; I can hardly. The world spins freely off of an axis and swims where it wants to swim in space...

 _Oh. Gosh. I know what's happening._

 _Do you now, Bliss? Pl-pleaaase help! She's swerving a looooot! It's scary! Her hands are so very tight arou—_

 _Yeah, yeah, Harei. I know exactly what's going on. Hate to say it but I've been victim too. Gah. So the question is what we need to—wait. Of course I know._

 _Hrrrr? I doubt someone such as you knows, Bliss. You don't seem the tyyype._

 _Shut up Foster, and be serious for once while you're at it!_

Diga-dull eyes go sharp in their skull.

 _But what if this is a bad idea? What if the entire hill and everything else gets set on fire? Hmmmm... That's scary, isn't it? And very, very worriso—_

 _HELP! SHE'S TIPPING VERY MUCH! I'M SCARED GUYS!_

 _Geeeesh, Harei, we're coming! One gold butt to the other!_

 _Eeeeew. Morie said you're_ improper _, Bliss._

 _Good._

 _Nnng. I need to go find Moorrriiieeee..._

Trudges amplify; lots and lots of things spin. I think I fall onto some back or another, and things wait. Things grow steady. Things grow peaceful, or at least as peaceful as they'll be at this time.

 _Hmmmmm. She's just... I mean, you can't blame her for all the turd that happened, right? We can't just pause and let the poor thing freak out even more. After everything she and Dino went through yesterday, you'd think one of them'd be more careful. Gaaaaaaah, idiots. Am I right or am I right, Harei? We're buddies, right?_

 _Um—um—um! I-I think that a lot has happened a-as well! They deserve to rest and enjoy each other and pleaaaase not bring the scary past back to life! I-I don't know if Cooper even likes us! It makes me feel really insecure, Bliss... and Dino. Nnnng! I don't like it when he's so forgetful with feelings about others! He's supposed to be caring about Jkonna; he made a promise to himself, and I guarantee he feels awful about everything! But he hasn't seen his friends... I'm sure he remembers, especially right now, all that she's done for him._

 _Hey, does anyone else see Nodopi? I thought it was Morie but—_

 _Oh my gosh, Bomba, shut up, no one sees her. She disappeared and no one cares and no one knows her that well yet so it's not even a big deal. Foster cares, but just slightly. Although that's pretty commendable for a big idiot like him._

 _I'm soooo stupid, aren't I?_

 _Yeeaaaaas!_ Their trilling chorus brings warmth to his heart for all the wrong reasons. I... sort of stir.

 _No, but, like,_ I _see her._

 _Bomba._ Is that Bliss? Is she taking the role of some general? Is my head resting on her plump Bliss thigh right now..? Is that why everything feels so rough but tiring and I'm ready for an actual nap..? Why all the questions? Diga-Dino? Where's diga-Dino?

Red passes over my gaze and I feel like a diga-drowning fool.

 _All in favor of Jkonna's heart having broken?  
_

 _But but but! I SEE HER! I SEE HER I SEE HER I SEE HER—_

 _BOMBA YOU DO NOT SEE HER I SWEAR IT ON THE POETRY I WENT CRAZY ABOUT THAT TWISTED MY BRAIN WHEN THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE._

 _Oh hey I see her too—_

 _YOU. DON'T. COUNT. FOS. TER._

 _Ummmm... u-umm... what if—_

 _NOOOOOOO! I SEE HER TOOOOOOOOO! I'VE BEEN PROVEN WROOONG!_

A final cry, like a bite into life as I know it, like a cruel plot twist of fate, diga-delves into my mind and snaps as cinnamon skin and spiny red hair diga-disperses with the sight of bright, plush pink.

A singsong voice trills for all to hear: _Hey Foossterrrr! How's that count for 'loyalty!' How's that count for 'friendship' and 'Bonds' and everything! How's_ that _count for 'trust?'_

Trust.

Was I supposed to trust him? Was I supposed to understand as he ran up the hill with that friend of his that it'd always be him on my side? Where has Cooper gone? Why's he diga-disappeared? Why diga-does my head hurt so much if it's only been full of the thoughts of my best friend in the whole world? Bright, arctic eyes nearly pop out of my skull as I chase up the terrain and the basin and I diga-don't stop even when I start to tip because I won't let anything knock this fire out of my soul. It's staying. It's real. I can't believe I—

"Hey."

His words send shivers diga-down my spine, cold whispers in the middle of a midnight light. His hands, rough and warm at the same time, goofy and playful like his voice, like his soul, intercept me, and before I know it I've sunk into him and I'm mumbling the awful thoughts I had and the bad headaches I had and I diga-didn't know it was possible to have all this snot coming out of me.

Gently, my best friend guides moss from the ground into my free hand and guides it to my nose, guiding it over and guiding me away from the sins I've leaked across, and guiding my hand so I know how to toss it far, far away. When my eyes manage to focus on more than my thoughts, big and warm and happy, gray eyes watch over me. He's smiling. It makes me wanna smile too, so I diga-do. My heart is warm now.

Whispers. "Dude, Jkonna... you've been pushing yourself so hard all of this time, haven't you? Silly, what happened just yesterday? What have we been going through? What do you think tore our hearts so heavily? Give it time, silly. Please don't push yourself, or then I'll worry a ton, and then where will we be? You make me laugh a lot, but I swear this isn't funny..." Like a child, he tells me these things. Little by little, I take each word and I hold it in my free hand, and he smiles when I diga-do, and it makes me laugh. He murmurs, "I'm not really sure why your new buddy Nodopi felt the need to toss Cooper into a tree, but it was funny, too. You're just full of laughs, aren'cha?"

His hands on my stomach.

No. Oh no.

I try to run but I can't.

Immediately the sensation forces me to the ground, on my back, wracked with half-made sobs and giggles and hiccups, the tickles getting to the worst of me as he's laughing again, too. No snot runs from me this time. It feels good to cry.

I can hear him through all that I forced myself into. I can hear him and the encouragement within him: a kind of glowing like paw-prints that follows me throughout my life and throughout everything I've ever diga-done, even tracing into the years and years, the unfortunate block of time that I never knew him. But it feels like I diga-did. Either way, this is it. This is it right here. This is why I get through everything in life that's awful and makes me want to quit. How I make it every diga-day until the end, even when I want to cry and give up and not listen to the beloved voices in my head.

It's all because of him. And the others, too...

This is why I got this far, and it's a very good feeling to understand now.

Before he stops and before we get up and continue with our lives, before we finish our little visit of the orphanage and before I end up face-to-face with the one and only Morn Nosh and the pure reason Cooper never left, he'll have to tell me in his awkward diga-Dino way—"Oh, but like! Cooper might be close to me, but seriously, he's not you. I'm sorry; I need to make myself clearer more often."

Why diga-do I love him this much? How is it possible to find a friend—a person—a real person—who means this much to me?

And I stop caring. I stop thinking about such trivial things... and I'm just happy.

 _Hey.  
Silly, what happened just yesterday?  
Give it time, silly..._

 **Oh my gosh, Jkonna exhausted me TTwTT  
… That's all I really have to say xD**

 **Oh! Fun fact, this is the second-to-last Jkonna POV chapter! Also, there's a little... "surprise" at the end of hers. Think about all of the people who've shown up in her chapters so far and maybe you'll guess who..? ;3**

 **Foster: -HMM I WONDER-**

 **Jkonna: owo**

 **Me: YES I AS WELL**

 **Jkonna: OWO**

 **Dino: HAAAH**


	36. Rt: Peace, Hidden in Pages of Chaos

**Foster: -So's this the last Rupert chapter or are we still fighting for more popularity.-**

 **Me: ;w;**

 **Foster: -Whuh?-**

 **Me: You already have 20+ chapters**

 **Foster: grumbles to himself about stupid things**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 36: Peace, Hidden in Pages of Chaos

 _Rupert_

Cool yet fair wind, which pilfers from the very tips of just-cracked windows, fulminating in space and atmosphere and into her hair, billowing like gentle autumn leaves, sends a breath of fresh life into the timely environment. Liveliness on her face and in her eyes brightens with just the paintbrush stroke of wind, of element upon her. It bleeds into her. Just a small touch alights her. The tire in her eyes seems to melt away by the things around her as I reach my own hand and stroke, softly, her fears away. Her soft and lavender orbs watch me as I watch her. A tiny smile buds at her lips. Blush like leaves expands from her nose into waves of precious cosmos. How could I not smile when I see her? It is as if a spell of darkness was broken when she spoke to me on that day...

Our original reason for coming to this area had none to do with my feelings for her or hers for me. I rather cannot focus on the book or the pages below me when she sits here in front of me, these feelings an influx betwixt us. Bits of watercolor have dressed sections into rainbows of pictures; I cannot focus when she sidles up to me. She sits by my side, and she stays by my side. She does not waver; nor do I.

My gloves I left absconded in a forgotten heap somewhere far away from here. My fingers are free to touch her, to stroke her cheek, to feel her warmth coalescing from within and pulsating unto me. I prefer this much to any other fashion.

She is safe now. She is safe here.

Breeze permeating, dragging its wake the tails of floral curtains, off the cool but sharp and welcoming strands billow through aisles upon aisles of thick, towering bookshelves. Building blocks of books brandish the never-ending walls, like a maze, which wend off into the center of the room and off into the hallways again, a majestic sort of labyrinth walled in papers inked by time- and care-worn words: drawings, too. Some books prefer illustrations to tell their story over welcoming blankets of text; personally either warms me. I like... stories. Thoughts. Inked into the world and given true form... beauty. Poetry. Priceless, shining poetry, furthermore valuable and renovated than expensive vases. I understand this "worth" of these "vases" and understand just how "prized" they really should be. Words are nice. Still my eyes trail from comforting pages and into the beauty of the girl I—truly—love. If the library of the castle were to burn to the ground at her feet, only for her to be safe, I could not care any less.

Her amethyst gems of eyes which I find precious and hold closely to me rumble from the pages and toward me, her smile wavering like wings in the wind. She is happy. I can tell this, and beyond, in her gaze, streaks of feelings and bits of wonder after I read her the title, and always the omnipresent shadows of... Please may she be vanquished of this evil one day. But here, but now, she is safe, and I will hold her and hide her from her fears for as long as I can, for as long as I must until there is nothing else left but for... it to come. Still... I love her. I love her... I love Dina. It is something I know... with the great, thick, throaty, relentless rumbles in my heart. I love Dina.

She blushes when I move closer; her face masks in these roses when I tell these things to her. She told them to me first; even if she struggles now through sheer feelings and that of her sweet, stuttering, red face, I cannot forget; I never wish to. She told me first. Perhaps I was the one to kiss her, but she told me she loves me. Oh... how I love her...

Leaning close to me, her hand places our combined fingers over the pages again. Great, purple eyes, wide and silent, stare at the expanse of rough writing and plentiful paining. Her fingers wriggle from my grip and stroke over words she can only begin to digest. She can understand some but certainly not as much as she wishes she could. It embarrasses her, illiteracy. Only a minority never find fluent enough reading so that in the least a sentence can be read smoothly in comparison to her choppy fumbles over the words. But she likes stories. She enjoys the sensation of being read to, of understanding without the pressure of reading. I would like to teach her, when times are not as hard, how to find beauty in writing with an ease she does not currently pertain. But... I would like it if I could show her. So when I found this room quickly I had to tell her, to take her here.

Books with pictures. Her personal favorite. She likes the words, too; sometimes they are easier to read on her own. Smaller letters forming little words, little things to see and comprehend to row through the river of her reading. Beauty she can understand, that she can hold in her hands and see. Gently her hand moves away from mine, tracing the wide circle of sun tossed in the air of the bright blue sky. She touches rolling, green hills dotted in daisies. Shadows of vivosaurs birth her little smiles. There is no other texture than the glossy page; she can see it, feel it, in her head. And she likes it. Her little hands eventually wend their way into the top-left corner where a small wall of text awaits interpretation. Her head flickers toward me, for just a moment, before turning back toward the page again.

She is cute.

The hand not upon the page I gently wrap around her, pulling her closer to me, keeping her with me. When she feels this her head rests upon me. Auburn swaths of wavy, orange locks just touched in silver wend across me, wend across her. She does not move her gaze from my hand or the paper in front of us. Her excitement is evident, palpable, like a feeling in the room I can almost hold. And so I murmur, in start of the story, "'Over valleys and treetops... very far, far away, there lies a small home in the grasses, where the little adventurer lays. Found in the morning fixing sugar for tea... and by time of the night, sleeping may it be.'" I search Dina. Her nose twitches and she looks toward me.

"I like this..." she whispers, "it, um, seems nice. The, um... 'The Littlest Adventurer...'" Soft giggles float from within her. Not only does she prefer books with pictures, but those that tell stories for children she likes the best. She is so cute...

And so I go on, gently turning the page. A landscape crafted in marshy, dark hues, shaded in purple, stares back at us. Small, spiked trees in the horizon enter the view of the reader. Still the path of the creature from the front cover—a mammalian sort of vivosaur of long, floppy ears whose name I doubt we will learn—sits before him, drenched yet again in those daisies. This makes Dina smile. A smaller line of text lies nestled again in the horizon, perhaps looking down upon the tiny mammal and keeping him safe. Keeping—her safe. "'She hops over terrains, no matter how scary, to find people in need, and help in adventures if they... harry.'" Stopping, I ask her, "So may this be a kind protagonist? Who wishes to help and befriend others... on her adventures."

Dina, giggling again, murmurs, "I like her straw hut. She can fold it up a-and take it anywhere..."

Casually a third body traipses from her sunning spot on another table, leaping into our rounded corner and laying her spiny and yet elegant head upon the cloth covering it. Her little claws poke at the sheet without trying to break it. Royal purple eyes smile toward me. _I like this story as well, dearie. But where does she get all of her tea from? and may I ask what kind she prefers? Aah, curiosity. These children's fables are sweet but they leave too much hanging for me..._ Mistress offers a wan grin. Her body twists around the story as she watches the page, pointing out the fluffy protagonist and the little straw hut she wordlessly folds up and takes with her everywhere. There is as well no description of tea or where she is going, or if perhaps she prefers hills to anywhere else.

 _Dammit! I can't take all the questions! It's like having no idea what's going on around you or if—_ Torn abruptly halts when his bright pink eyes rake over us, landing on Dina. _FUCK I MEAN IT'S LIKE BEING AMNESI—DAAAAAHHHGG, DAMMIT I DON'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT DINA._ She giggles yet again. Torn releases his forked tongue with a haughty snort, folding up his limbs around himself with a naughty sigh.

Dina, nodding toward me, smiling, asks me go to on, and so I do. The next page reveals a blotchy, rainy area full of holes brimming with tears of the thunderclouds. The writer has gone so detailed as to add shining pupils into the droplets and watery lines as they dip into the soil or the puddles. The small, fuzzy, brown creature trudges onward with a small straw hat upon her head, shuffling closer and closer to the canine on the other side that may as well be an andrarch. "'Even if it is wet, she must not let; or the need to help others be something to forget.'"

 _What the fuck is she helping._

 _U-umm, m-maybe an andrarch? I-I think..._

Mistress raises her eyes, scanning the painted horizon. _But it also looks like an amargo, a little bit; oooh, I could see dimetro as well! Perhaps this is Torn she is helping! Hah, I could see why... Can't you make out the resemblance, Rupert? Oh, please tell me you do!_ When I nod, she softly trills in approval. _Yes, yes, yes, dearie! The sweet and kind girl must always save the bloody-mouthed dimetro! They are meant to be together, no?_

Quickly I turn to the next set of pages. Hasty. A small, feeble part of my mind wishes that perhaps the adventurer will soon find a second who can be with it and no matter what I do the thought will not quench itself.

I need a moment to compose myself and glance upon the exposed pages. I see now that the story has taken a turn and began a true plot instead of simple rumbling around, place to place. The pictures only seem to grow further vibrant, with the littlest adventurer and the we-think-dimetro by her side, he lighting up and spewing a ball of flame past rain and brittle tree branches alike. He hisses as it falls. A side of the atrocious, alighting flame gives shape to a slouched, stout figure in the further-off broken-down trees that could be a boulder or could be... Quietly I continue. "'The littlest adventurer and her new friend must find a way... to reach the end. Her friend belches flames to see through the rain, and they manage to find an open cave. As they approach through black trees, it is hard to move for thorny seeds; still they go on and into the night, for if they do not they will lose their light.'"

 _Light? What the fuck? What light? I don't like this shitty little..._

 _Torn, how many times have I told you by now not to question the logic of children's books?_ A stout figure indeed shows by the side of the dimetro, his pastel cyan-and-red pinwheel fashion matching that of his best friend. Snorting, Trikko continues to grumble in a low voice about common mistakes on argumentation with creative and open minds the blue dimetro has made in the past. It effectively kills the words in his maw.

Small fingers point again at the page, toward where the dark but brooding, deep drawings have led toward. While the protagonist and her friend line up with their faces upon the left side, the path they wend toward is on the right. Small, almost imperceptible breaches of waves of sun rays penetrate the stormy barrier and shift and flow just slightly upon the ground here. "M-Maybe that is what they mean by 'their light?' O-Or maybe they are scared..." Worry obvious in her gaze, Dina buries her head by my shoulder and sighs. She is scared for the ending. I tried to explain to her that these stories never end badly...

Snorting. Thick pink eyes glare at me from over the table. _Why the hell did you let her think something like that? Why the_ hell _did you let her read something that might_ scare _her? Dammit, Rupert, you don't know anything and I hate you so much and get away from my Dina!_

 _Torn. Please._ The tricera at his side wrinkles his snout. _You're being an atrocity again. I would be most grateful if you'd stop. It's quite unhealthy for me. Not to mention unhealthy for Dina, I'm sure; Rupert cares about her, don't you know that?_ Torn slowly opens his twisted maw until his best friend cuts him off again. _No. That's right. You don't. Goodness gracious._ Still their bickers quickly dwindle and the two stare dumbly at me, waiting for my fingers to move the story onward. Mistress, closer to me and far more protectively kind than the prior two, raises a bemused eye toward them.

All eyes trained upon me—other than Dina, who has closed hers in the epitome of sleep—I turn again. Her soft breathing upon me lets me know she is still very alive and very awake. Supposedly she would prefer to listen now than see more pictures. She does not note the cave scene with the protagonist and her friend, nor the strange tree-like cave drawings marking the walls and dancing like winged creatures of the sky. Somehow the green chalk stands out; somehow the painter managed to give a facsimile of it with only their prized and incredibly watercolor skill. Quietly, focused further on Dina than all else, I tell her, "'Inside of the cave, it was all warm and bare. But the night would not shave, even as they slept there. Strange drawings of comfort were clawed on the walls; great and echoing beckoned big, colored halls.'" She stirs from her perch, only sinking further into me. Gently I raise my hand, if for a moment, to stroke her upon her head before continuing back to the story.

The next page proffers more scenery and more vivid showcases of strange chalk sketches. None of them resemble any other images—my heart beats slower now. From seemingly nowhere I can still hear the echo of Nyra's cheep from wherever she has bundled up betwixt books and their rightful beds. I try to focus more on watercolor hallways glossed and captured in paper, torches on the walls and hopeful, fluffy, sweet little girls wandering with the help of... of a friend. "'It would have been hard to see if not for her fiery friend. Because of him, through the big cave they can wend. Searching and searching for a way out, so they may find peace, they hope, as they shout.'"

 _Fuck? They're shouting now?_ Again Torn bristles.

From her perch Nyra mutters, _Torn, please do not be such a disrespectful disgrace to the poor little story! Dina's smiling, so I think she likes it either way! And isn't that what matters the most, Torn? We care about her... and how she feels, how she's doing, which is not in much any way the easiest job, but it's what we want to do, and it's what we care about, so we must. So please... she's smiling, Torn._

He bumbles about incomprehensible nonsense.

 _Dearies,_ offers my Mistress, _I believe they are shouting in the hope of finding someone who can help them! Or something similar, yes? So that they may see their dear light, yes, yes? I would believe so, in the least. I look forward to seeing how this little story may conclude... In peace, yes? In light, yes? I suppose we shall see._ Truly I doubt the mapo queen understands either the purpose of children stories. She and Dina are... cute, like that. To not understand... it is cute.

Words stumble across the page in a state of awkward cacophony: I can tell which goes when but they bounce, and they bounce, and it proves difficult to tell where each piece goes and what fits with which. "'At first they cannot see; where has their light gone? But as they go on they realize the dark is receding: so they find relief...' um... 'Without her friend she would be lost, without her dear friend she would not have found escape. It was scary, to be in the dark; the littlest adventurer understands this cost...'" And it goes on, bounding toward her furry little face emblazoned with wide, sweet eyes. "'Look, she told her friend, look and please see; for I think we have found an important key. Perhaps, she wondered, if we go and we plea, the gates will open, the one by those trees.'" And drawings of the worded noun cross over the edges.

They were in darkness at first... and they were confused—but... Torn... led... her...

Torn asks some superfluous question and Trikko answers halfheartedly. The first rumbles in some form of regurgitated laughter.

"'Still, it looks, they had a way to go. For drawings in nearby nooks had ruined their flow. One of a smaller friend, and one of a bigger one... for if they were alone their hearts would be stunned. True friends, the picture showed, are important to one... Backwards the littlest adventurer and her friend went, to go and free the images unspent. It was only then that they would know the light they had searched for had started to glow.'"

Do not tell me _they_ are in this wayward story as well...  
I... Dina...

She has not noticed. I doubt she would be able to. Ignoring her worried state as it is, I feel that... she would not search so deeply for a... relation like so.

And I turn another page. All five of her vivosaurs and the one of mine practically breathe into me in search of the answer, for the ending of this strange and gallantly-painted story. On glossy pages reveal that the cracks in the walls and the yellows from prior here mix thickly into a soupy viscous with the fluffy brown littlest adventurer caught in the middle, that red friend of hers just behind. They appear to be sliding through bright colors, perhaps even a vortex, off into... somewhere else. The text lies simple at the bottom. "'Now we can go, now we are free, said the littlest adventurer in great glee. If we continue this way, maybe then, we will find that we lay in the midst of the fray, the fray we had come so far to see...'" And finally it is... somewhat revealed where that red fellow originated in the first place. "'My dear friend, thank you for coming all this way; you are very funny. I cherished every moment that you came with me, and now I see that it is meant to be: please come, as I find my way in the sun. We must be off soon, before this day is done. Travel in the light, where it is very bright, and perhaps we will see—yes, you and me—where we must go to help the others.'"

One or two mumble thoughts about why is this adventurer so pent up on helping others?

I open the next page—I believe the second to final—and out spills grandeur. Gold. Glory. Shining, glittering bricks coned off into a castle flowing in the breeze of clouds and hills and little ribbons cascading off from its tips. I murmur, Dina stirring again, "'Here is where we must go now. For the sun led us here, to where we will be found. We will laugh and play and make people smile, so maybe oh maybe we will stay for a while. Maybe we will belong here, maybe we will be happy, and even if it is not near, at least memories will cheer. For a very, very long time in our hearts. Let us be off... let us start.'" Like a long-lost princess the littlest adventurer, after glancing at her long savior the sun, pelts off into the castle.

On the final page it merely states in golden, glimmering whispers of words: "'Maybe the world is not pretty now, but some of it always will be; maybe not soon and you don't get how, but one day again it will shine. The sun is always there, the sun is always bright, the sun will always show you the way to the light. So don't give up.'" And finally a little image of the littlest adventurer, the sweet little protagonist, painted with great care, so softly stroked in yellows and golds, there she is. There she is.

I give the excuse that I will be back with tissues, for softhearted sobbing vivosaurs and Dina alike, as my mind, miffed, rattles thoughtlessly. Silenced because as much as I wish to be there for her I doubt I would ever create something so wonderful... something so beautiful for her. I could not... be that... I could never be that. It is a shame: all she deserves and yet I am futile to... to... Gently I shake my head. Perhaps the plot itself did not offer the most adequate of sense in places, but it still told a story, and it still held deep within it a certain core of meaning. Torn and Mistress most evidently saw as I had.

An apology proffered to the kind, furry lady at the middle desk and a plucking of the tissues by her side— _swff, swff—_ I go along back to where my dear girl and her vivosaurs and my Mistress awaits and once I find them quickly give them their allotted set. Dina requires the most of each of them, her face eventually hiding in her final tissue, a ghost of a cloth punctuating her nose and hiding herself in shadow and white. When I hold out my hand for her, she jerks toward me, thinks with her eyes turning, and stumbles back, mumbling nothings like her snot and her tears. I sit upon the chair beside her and take her hand, not unkindly, my other again pulling her toward me, and, I imagine, keeping her... keeping her safe. Orange locks tumble into my fingers and I stroke her when she sneezes, once, twice.

"I-It was a sweet story," is all she offers, and all I need. She is a sweet girl. Of course she feels touched by this story, this... sweet story. Book left untouched on the table by all present, it stays there, lonely, the image of the "littlest adventurer" and her red friend in stark watercolor of woodlands and hills and light and dark all blended harmoniously into one single drawing, one single cover. "The Littlest Adventurer." My darling smiles when she looks over it, instead directing her gaze toward me, to where I can see the yellow glowing of my eyes, the soft smile upon me. She placed it there. She placed it there...

For a long time I never thought of such "frivolous" things. I never left an uneven thought out of line for something like that... like a "smile." Simply I pertained no purpose. I felt no feeling. I regarded that no reason was telling me to do really anything other than the creature who told me, told me, told me to win the tournaments and present the money, money, money. A small sigh escapes. I rest myself against her as she leans on me. She feels warm and safe in my arms; I feel warm and safe to be holding her. To have her here, with me. Even Torn, as truly frivolous as he can be, I accept. I accept him warmly, as he _loves_ this girl, perhaps not as I do but he still shares such a bond. He cares for her and distrusts the people who come near her—within good reason, although his curses could mark less blundering time to time if only he did not yell and screech so much...

As the other softhearted individuals with us dispose of their tissues and take the small mountain Dina allotted along with them, I sit with her, and we wait together. Torn has left alongside them... alongside the others. All but... perhaps not Reyna, if I were to guess? But maybe. Quietly I rest with her... and I watch her, until her eyes catch mine and she whispers:

"Rupert..? Yo-You are... v-v-very elegant... Rupert..."

"Ah... Dina..." I cannot help myself and dart my gaze away from hers, instead staring along the table as she nuzzles closely to me. It takes time, as I lie in waiting, to know what to tell her... how to explain to her... when I tell her in return, "You are beautiful, Dina."

She splutters. Very quickly. "I-I-I do not know about tha—!"

Gently I place my hand over her lips, whisper, "Do not raise your voice in the library," just by her ear. She catches the little smile I have placed upon me, that I feel upon me, and she giggles softly through my pale, unclothed fingers: "Y-Ymph..."

When I take them away she repeats herself. "You are c-c-cute... a-and that makes me happy, Rupert..." And so I look from her again. My cheeks, I feel, are hot.

These feelings that tug me in many directions... I wonder what truly birthed of them, and why... oh, why were they found inside of me? Why was I... the one, the lucky one, to fall in love with her? Why was it me... she found these feelings for? What elevates me, what gives me foundation stronger than any other entity that may lay eyes on her? I do not understand... I cannot understand why. And still the feelings pull me closer, they bring me closer to her... until I cannot, I truly cannot let go of her... and so I never do.

When Amurr and Joanie told the guards off, gave them a beating in words, against harming Dina and locking her away just because she may have an ancient inside of her when she is their guest and they invited her alongside the swooning numbers of others that were asked of and accounted for, she was allowed safety again. She was allowed out again. Thus so far, I have given her none of such: I have held her hand and taken her with me so that she may be there for every next step I may have. Whether they are hers or mine, I want... the other to stay. I refuse to keep her out of my sight any longer for as long as I can. Little things like tissue runs I will accept, in bursts of moments, especially with Torn nearby, but that is as far as I ever wish to be from her. Especially in a time like... now.

The princess and her dear friend were kind to us; we do know one another after the excursion of events where they tried to participate in the Caliosteo Cup instead of run their kingdom. It was... a catastrophe, at times, to say the least, but still I suppose I enjoyed meeting the two of them; and now I am thankful of them, for they kept her safe... they kept her safe and away, away, away from those guards... and that room...

Not a soul mentioned growing ancient alerts. Not a soul broached the topic of how close they have come to the castle and how easy a torn soul can succumb to one of them. Not a soul thought, not a soul spoke, when there was a faraway supply closet found ransacked, its door ajar and in ribbons, the ground lightly coated in—blood—here and there, allotted mainly in one corner where a certain Dina had sat on that night when she was taken and that night when she escaped.

I am thankful for this as well...

"Rupert..?"

She is so warm in my arms... so warm, beside my heart... that I wonder if she can feel it beating. A finger stroking across her cheek, hand cupping her head, my warm little Dina... and I whisper, to her and her alone, "Yes, Dina?"

"Rupert... u-uumm..." She does not see how cute she is when she mumbles and stutters like so. That as well warms me; it births a sort of gentle flame inside of me that I cannot express very well... but it is soft and safe, and it thrives inside of me, especially when she is here with me. Her amethyst eyes, big and sparkling, turn from table, to bookshelf, to me. "I wanted to ask you... if... if... umm... Th-The story was v-very sweet but u-ummm I-I-I wanted... I wanted to know if... you had a-a-any sweet stories like that... th-that were from you, a-and from you alone... about, um, you... Happy little things about y-you, Rupert. If you are o-okay with telling me..." and so her voice lumbers off. It steps with a sort of ease where it moves. It makes me happy.

So I consider her words, because she gives them to me... and she only asks kind things of me. Things that will help me, things that will kindle the gentle flame inside of me, things that she wishes to understand about me. And they make me... wonder. Happy pieces within my life... like a puzzle wishing to be solved. Only so many of those fragments I know without even touching are filthy, filthy little fragments of who I once was and who I never wish to be again. Still are as well the smaller gems, which I can count in one, maybe two hands alone. She—she owns many of them by name. They are of her doing. Of course... I prize Dinu, my scornful yet tender cousin, and our grandfather I welcome as well. But... she... she is not like the two of them; she is not much like any soul I have met before.

"Happy things," I murmur under my breath. What would she want me to tell her of? My gaze draws toward her as her cheeks thicken with color.

She squeaks, her soft, lost breath like that of a snowflake in spring.

"U-Ummm... I cha-changed my.. my mind. I would... if it is... okay... like the v-very happiest story of yo-yours... please..."

Perhaps my own whisper was lost in the currents of my soul, where sweet and tender softness has me brimming, but I still tell her, at least in some form of twisted memory, "Of course..." and "anything for you... my dear Dina..." It is... quite a shame I cannot tell if she heard me. Wide, purple eyes watch me, glinting with small spots of yellow, like those of which I look towards her upon, and without hesitation in a sudden rush of feelings I pull her face toward mine. My sweet and soft little Dina...

Our foreheads touch from where we lay. I... like such a feeling. I like it. "The happiest moment in my life..?" Her head pulls itself closer to me, if that possible at this point, when I whisper. "I have... a wan number to choose from... but they are precious to me. How can I tell, Dina..?" The way her eyes widen and face reddens, the way she squeaks very quietly to herself: oh, I love her. Perhaps I have yet to understand why, how someone so lovely as she had found me, and found this love for me; all I know is simply that I love her, I love her, I love her... "Dina, there are perhaps few in number to choose from, but they are all so precious to me...

"When I first saw you... even then, I suppose, though I did not realize this until much later, I was happy to have met you. Your tricera and your dimetro obviously loved you, even if they were messy in their sentiments, and I found it degrading but rather... amusing of Trikko to take all seven of your blankets and explode, shooting them across the room in all sorts of directions, when he fell off your bed. And all you had was that Torn to keep you warm... I love... I love your smile when you heard him, and the face you made when you first saw me. It was... precious. A precious state of shock.

"The moments where I saw you, again and again, bring... now a smile to me that I never thought would return after all these years... Even as I was colder and harder to come toward Todd insisted to battle me and the way your flustering self looked away but toward him in a sort of awe... I wished, later on, you would look toward me like that. When that tabula rasa broke herself and stole your Torn and my unfortunate lost souls, the way you hesitantly but still bravely came after me... I adore it. And when you tried to climb the boulder later placed there, only to nearly fall off of it—and may I mention terrify Todd and myself both—to end unfortunately if not for Nyra, the worry I felt made me realize at that time you were special. When Todd lumbered off, excuse me, the imbecile, and the BareBones fools tried to kidnap you, and quickly failed to the paws of a certain dimetro... I could not help myself when I called out. By then I knew... I knew, Dina, that I could not let go of you. I could not... let you out of my sight.

"I regret to inform you of this now, but I heard you confessing for me to Pauleen when the two of you landed in the dastardly Bonehemoth and I further off. When I heard you, and I understood that you felt the same way about me... I had to show you. Somehow. And after our escapade and when—"

She blurts, "Th-The helico-copter ca-came to get us! Because Torn found us! And Todd a-and the others rode in the plane with Joe but there was not enough spaces... e-er, not J-Joe but Zo-Zongazonga... a-and so I went wi-with you..."

"Yes, Dina." My lips trace her forehead "Yes..."

"And you... y-you kiss-kissed me for the... first time, tha-that day... A-And I was able to stay with you, then..." She shakes her head slowly. "Rupert?" She does not go on until I call her name softly in response. It brings her smile back, only a mirror of her original one, this hinted in shadows of sorrow. "It made me sad when you said 'Forgive me...' Be-Because it made me happy when you..."

Her little hands tighten around me, her head hidden, nuzzled against me. I stroke her again... sweet little Dina... "It made me happy too..." I stare off through the chambers, my smile unheeded for. But there it is... like unexpected flowers in a meadow thought dead... there it is... And the place, it is alive... it never died... Always was a will, perhaps as small as a single, rugged blade, but still a will held it through... and brought me to her.

She whispers, sending a small sensation of ribbons over me. "But... But wh-what is your favorite?"

And so I answer her with all of the truth in my heart, "They all are."

Her giddy little grin makes it all worth it.

It always does. Her smiles give me a reason in this life of mine: in this skin of mine. When I see her, I feel perhaps like an artist given a brush and paints, a sculptor given clay, an astronomer given a telescope... I feel like I can see, and I feel like I am me, when I see her smile and I know exactly why she did. The answer is on the cusp of my lips and the air but at the same time it wends from a faraway, bathypelagic place where none has ever seen before, originating, the stem of a seed back into its roots somewhere far, far down inside. Mayhap the darkness trumps light here still; or perchance it is hard to breathe; but, it lives; and yet, it lives, it can live in here. And it can bloom. The way her little eyes like glossy river stones shine when I search upon them and hold them close to me gives me purpose once again, makes even the darkest of paths and the depth of pains, the dent of pasts bearable. She does this; she alone for me. Others may see and warm by her light, but she...

Her eyes follow mine when I search the hands that touch her, that curl and cup around her and beckon her closer, my little Dina toward me. And I can have her and keep her here alone, and Torn can infrequently trust me and Mistress sometimes believe in me because she is mine. My little Dina. My... Dina. She... is... mine. And that makes me happy. So quietly, just as softly as she had asked, just as fleeting as her giggles, I pull my lips to her ear, my head against hers, and I murmur: "And what might be your very happiest story, Dina?"

The slight shivers that trace her frame can be felt in her arms in which my hands go over. Gently I rub her silvery white scales, slowly, small circles, around and around and around. Her blush burns me from how close I am to her. And it makes me happy to see her feelings and how freely, bravely, she shows them to the world. She does not try to hide behind masks... she wants to be herself and she lets the world see it no matter their response. And I... I want to... keep her safe, if I can. I must be gentle, for she is but a little flower, cosmos in my hands. But I want to keep her safe, if I can.

"M-M-Mine? U-Uuuuhhh... There are ve-very ma-ma-many to choose from, Rupert..." Shyly her lids flutter over her eyes. I smile again, just on the cusp of it, when she searches me through precious little slits. "There are... very many happy stories... I-I know that you did not per-perhaps ha-have as many of these but... whe-when I was younger... Todd... Todd and I, and Torn, s-sometimes we could... play games. A-And I think Joe, when he still had me, he said that whe-when he did that w-we always had fun a...a-and laughed...

"Bu-But I-I think these are not my happiest stories..!"

Against myself my heart picks up its beat and I whisper, "No?"

I can feel her shaking her head against me and against myself my heartbeat quickens. "No, no... I have... I have had... ve-very special moments with, um... so-someone else... I-I am sorry, you must know where this is going..."

"Please go on..." I find myself unable to pluck the desperation from my voice.

So she does... "U-Um, so... I re-really liked the day when someone... sh-showed me their... hidden cave, th-the one with the rai-rainbows and... and the icicles and the snow... That was a very nice day." It beats harder in my chest. "And then once he... um... he went after me when the BareBones Brigate ki-kidnapped me, he came after me and found me even when a-all the boulders fell, he went through them and he-he found me a-a-and did not c-care to the point of fulsomeness when I... cr-cried a... lot... And he was very, very kind, a-all the time... and quiet too, bu-but I liked it, a-and I really, really liked it... when he would visit me in the Cleaning Room... an-and he stayed there for hours, so-sometimes... and that made me happy...

"But... but I... loved when..." And my heart only beats faster. "I loved when..." And faster. "he told me..." Faster. "that..." Faster. "he... he... h-he...

"loves... me..."

Perhaps I needed not to hear it with my own ears to know it when I have already heard it before, or perhaps it is selfish of me to desire her gentle, sweet croon to tell me these things again, but still the sensation of pure, untapped joy that roams through my body and ceaselessly fills me cannot be helped, cannot be explained. I hear much less than feel the words vibrating through me when I say them, know more than see her pull herself toward me, and understand more than all else that she loves me. She loves me. Dina loves you, Rupert, and you alone. She chose _you_. And you are everything to her...

These sorts of moments dot much less than smother my life now. These words touch much less than cover my heart now. It is she, I know, it is she who makes me feel this way, time and time and time again. Somehow it is because of her that I see more clearly now: the world has retired with its shaking and placed itself, very gently, very slowly, before me. And now I can see. I see, above her, a bright, shining afternoon sun that glistens pridefully. I see around her the stacks upon stacks of warm, time-laden books like bricks to a building. I see, behind her, coming very closely, a pack of colorful, sparkling creatures that surely are made of scales such as hers—neglecting a green of feathers in particular—although they could not shine like she, never to me.

 _Holy fuuuuuuck! Rupert, shit, you're hugging her like she's something precious—and she is—but fuck, she's not your teddy Mistress! Be gentle, dammit! Watch the merchandise!_

 _Ohhhh, Ruuupeerrtt~_ Happily flutters the feathered female upon the two of us until she practically has embraced with her impeccable, indelible wingspan. Quite a particular size she boasts of, one that hides the sun but fills one with a new and very different sense of glory. Her beak-like maw, angled into a puzzled and yet crooning manner, hovers over me. _You take such nice care of—_ a glare back toward the dimetro—o _ur 'merchandise.' Torn._

Bashfully he snickers from behind, eventually sticking his head through two low-hanging feathery surfaces. _Whatever, Nyra. So long as you're careful and_ your _merchandise isn't ruined._

 _TORN! D-DO NOT, PLEEAAASE!_ in return she whines. _THAT'S SO RUDE AND SO EMBARRASSING WHEN YOU IMPLY THAT!_

 _It took Trikko and an entire night for you to understand_ that _much._

 _T-TOOOORNNNNNNNNNN!_

Beneath their jagged layers of textures and shouts, Dina mumbles, "I like them very much, Rupert..."

And so I tell her, "I as well, Dina," as I gently pat her head. And she smiles yet again. Just beneath the understory of bated breaths and Torn I give her a small beam in return, only for a flash of a moment so neither of those two catch onto it too. I feel rather against them... seeing as much. It is for... it is for Dina. They tend to be that way... Perhaps I will learn otherwise as I... begin to grow into this feeling once more. She unknowingly teaches me how to feel this joy again. And she makes me so smile, once upon a time... and now, and always. Even so, no matter the time: there she is.

Out of place as it may feel, I am brought back the thoughts of the story I had read to her, the elaborate watercolor and the red friend, and the drawings on the walls and winged tree-like entity and the boulder, and all of the seeings I found between those lines. I know how she sees them; I dare not imagine how she may see me. "The Littlest Adventurer" held a strangely tear-inducing story that brought sobs to my dearest and her vivosaurs, and mine, too. Sweet little tales they cannot understand always, always end happily... no matter what sort of awful fiends meet in the middle... Quietly I ask myself, why can my life not be like that? I thought, once, it was, maybe it would be; and now she is harmed and I will not be safe, externally, internally, in my heart, soul, mind... none of me will find comfort without her. So why? Why must... after years and years upon toil, _agony_ , why must she have this monster inside of her? Why must she disappear from me..? For times not a soul can see so far into?

It hurts. When I think of her and inevitably those decaying thoughts grope me, it hurts. It hurts. Their knives of fingers hungrily lurch for me, they slide along me, they want to touch me and dig into me and kill me like they never were able to prior, because she saved me. But she is going away now: she is going away for a long, long time. And she may never come back. No one knows. I do not know. Todd does not know. Mistress does not know. Torn does not—Dina. Dina does not know; nor does the monster inside of her. And so it hurts, cuts and blisters whisper my name, it hurts.

When I tossed my head back and looked at the ceiling, I used to wonder why it does not come down on me. I used to ask. Beg. Wish, please, please crash. Even a hunk of plaster. Just a small one. Enough. Just enough to kill me, please kill me. I used to look at these things in the world and ask for the inevitable to happen sooner so that I may stop this nonsense life and halt the train from the crash it is destined to splurge into, ask it to run off the tracks now. To crash and to burn and—die. I used to ask these things. They never happened so today I am here, untouched but for the fading marks of white little scars that once crisscrossed my arms, hands, palms, fingers. Magical white lines that never went away whose origin I could never recall and never care for. I used to wonder these things.

Now I want the roof to stay where it is and cease to enact such a gruesome purpose. I have reason and I want to live. There is nothing for me to see when I look up: only sky. Clouds, sometimes. But sky. Hopeful blue sky like the rim of dark eyes, hopeful and blue and bright. She deserves safety, and so the ceiling must stay up and keep her safe. And if it falls upon her I will raise it and I will be the one to protect her... if I can... if I can... I will if I can... if she lets me, and she does, I know she does, I do not even have to ask her. The look in her gaze that she shines upon me always tells me that I can... and it asks of me to. To be the one to hold her when she is afraid... to tell her she is beautiful when she looks away... to smile when she looks upon me for comfort, when she has been abrade... to be the one... the only one... to love her when she is afraid...

Sometimes instead the windows beckon me. Light and shining... and the feeling that if I truly desired to, I could open the window... I could feel the rush of the wind against my face... I would be alive, I would realize yet again that truly I am free... and I am free with her... and I will protect her, over all... over everything, for I love her... I love you, Dina...

When I tell her these words, and I tell myself them, the knives that want to stab me invert upon themselves and it is as if the danger never existed and never will. Like... the gentle, glowing aura Dina gives off and... saves me with... has cascaded upon me, has rubbed onto me, and protects me too. Because maybe she doesn't realize it but every moment I spent with her and every moment I think of her, it only takes a moment to realize she is with me and she loves me to know that she is saving me every time. I could not stray for the darkness I once lived with again for the light she has given me is now around me, too... and because of her, I am safe. And perhaps I am not safe unless she is, but I will do my best to protect her... to be a... a knight... golden, and warm, and bright... who keeps her safe... always... Because to leave her would kill me and I will never leave her. Never... not my sweet, little Dina... never my sweet Dina...

Slowly I return to her, my thoughts focused and gentle, and full, full of her. I ask her quietly if she would like me to read her another story. She smiles, tells me that she thinks this one was much more than enough.

 **Me: ;w; THEY ARE PRECIOUS I'M SORRY JUST I AHAH**

 **Torn: -Cry why don't you.-**

 **Me: -cries on his shoulder-**

 **Torn: -Dammit.-**

 **Trikko: -You know ladies love their gentlemen.-**

 **Torn: does it for the sake of looking good to Nyra**

 **Heheh... that was the last Rupert chapter of the story. He only got three, but... you'll see x3**


	37. Ja: Sweet Little Hearts

**Me: I bet everyone thought I was gonna forget about this little event, and foo, I thought I was gonna forget about it a few times too, but I DIDN'T SO THERE**

 **Jkonna: WE ARE GOING TO OUR PARTY NOW DIGA-DINO**

 **Dino: NOOOOOOOOOO I DON'T CAAARRREEEEEEEE**

 **Foster: -I smile when I see him tortured.-**

 **Jkonna: -slowly pats his head-**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 37: Sweet Little Hearts

 _Jkonna_

It takes more time than I thought to get him this far, but I told him we were going to the party today and that means we are going to the party today: he can't skip out. He's lucky enough that when I forced him—still not sure how I managed it—into his teffla tux I hadn't, like, made him wear my diga-dress in the end. I wouldn't mind switching for his tux and giving him my garments in return. He'd probably hate it; whatever; good. Looking at all this turd I've gotten myself into, might as well have bought both of us the freaking diga-dress in the first place. Skirts of soft, fluffy, yellow clouds of taffeta rear around me and swirl in my wake; my hair grows steadily more tangled into the cheerful, impossible layers. Whatever. We're here. We made it. There is no way I'm letting him set a single pinky toe off this diga-doormat.

And the best part is, no matter how much turd he tosses at me when the kids show up, they'll get a kick out of anything he diga-does. Somehow I get this creepy feeling that if he was still in... that state... they wouldn't care. I blink a bit through fumbling eyelids and diga-draw rivets of fingers through rivers of long, long, lava-like waves. My hair curls around me when I release it, like it'd rather I hang around with it than him. I almost—almost would.

Not really.

"Jkonna?"

" _NO._ "

"Jkonna?"

"Di-ga-Di-no—shuuuuuuut-up."

"I feel very neglected right now, Jkonna."

Closing my eyes, I mumble, "Diga-do you now."

"And my pants are kinda tight. And everything. My tail feels uncomfortable in the clothes. Uuuhh, what other excuses can I toss at you to get me out of this... uuuhhhh, I didn't comb my hair—"

"You never diga-do. And I really diga-didn't ask how your tail felt about the clothes: more like I asked you. Yes? Yes."

It's amusing. It always is. Turd, my very best friend in the whole wide world has always been very amusing to me. But I stayed up all night trying to fix the diga-dress I forgot I killed at the wedding cuz there's no way I'll ever work up the courage to ask someone as talented as Vivian, for I am inferior in all rights. So I was fending for myself when it came to what really felt like stitching actual teffla skin into some palpable form that wouldn't look like I was being regurgitated alive and here he is, trying to get his stupid tail out of visiting some children and a children whose name is Clem.

I love him.

Isn't that why? Because he lets his emotion get the best of him and then acts it out into his own funny little tantrum that half the time _almost_ diga-doesn't feel like sleepless Jkonna diga-dragging her corpse around the place as this—wise guy—wise guys all over the place. He's... really great like that. It's funny. It takes my mind off of the fact that my fingers have been punctured with little red holes and feel about ready to flop off my hands. Makes me about ready to toss a bunch of kids on him—diga-did I mention I love kids? Like I really love kids.

He's got feelings. He's not afraid to show them. He's got this can-diga-Dino-diga-do attitude that combats my own can-diga-do attitude that puts us both into some sort of battered situation that always forces a smile into me. Maybe it sounds painful, but it's not, it's fluid, natural, smooth... sweet. He's kind, too. He's just diga-Dino like that. It makes me happy that it's him that I get to be so very close with. So when I think back to all that we've gone through, and when I think back to how long it truly took him to crawl out of that diga-darkness, and when I think back to the whole world and all that's gone on, it makes me happy. And a little jealous of Cooper—some things I can't quite shake—but it makes me happy.

Our hands combine into a knot of scales and skin, black and brown, and I slowly raise my right hand toward the diga-door, to knock sound into the other side of the home and let them know that we made it. We're here. We... actually somehow managed this far: we really, really made it. Honestly I still feel like I lost bits and pieces of me into the swamp of the past few months, but that's okay: new pieces will always find their way. If I hadn't changed, I wouldn't have ever managed saving that wreck of a boy from the wreck of a hole he found himself falling into. So it's okay to change. Small breaths pool at my lips as we wait, and wait, and his fingers grow just a little shield of sweat, of nerves. His jokes have diga-died at his throat and we wait.

 _Kunk. Kunk kunk._

Beneath spills of black, spiny hair, his gray eyes grin. "Okay, there's no way they heard that." His voice, like his eyes, offers his sunny warmth. His jokes about his hatred for the little boy Clem have diga-dropped... well, for now. "The sound of the little kid music they're singing is pulsating _through_ the _welcome mat,_ therefore there is _no way_ they heard that." He coughs up some smile as pay. "So now can I try?"

"Nooooouuuuuuuhh," I mumble like the jealous brat I am.

He shoves himself past me and pastes his hand into the rough but otherwise nicely-painted wood. There's like flowers on the diga-door. Flowers the colors of the rainbow, and white paint beneath it, all trim and proper and nice and junk. Breckan's mom... or, well, maybe it was Breckan's diga-dad. I scratch at the colors and some of it crumbles under my fingernail.

Diga-Dino slams his hand over my nails when his palm bites into wood.

"Oowwwiieeeee! Diiiga-Diiiiiiinoooooooooo!"

"Okay, you toootally had that comiiiiinng!" He diga-doesn't try again. I stuff my fingers into my mouth and try to pout back at him anyways. My cheeks linger, some of them poked with bits of nails, rounded and swollen like chocolate muffins. Gray eyes light when they search over me, because he knows I'm being sillier than the, well, "pain." It's kinda cool how he can tell by now. Gently, the both of us waiting, staring, he raises his hand and he knocks again, gently and properly with his knuckles cutting wood, with the expertise of one who raises their pinky finger before sipping their tea.

A small, uncontrollable piece of my mind comments on just how _truly beautiful_ that connotation made her feel. Times like these remind me of just how easy it is for Bliss to make me want to hurt her or something. Giddy, she reminds me that I diga-didn't say hurt her, _Cuz see, you said 'hurt her or something.' Like, 'something?' As in 'hurt her or something?' What the heck d'you mean, Jkkie?_

 _Please diga-don't try me,_ I mumble through my hands. Slowly I pull out bits of slimy, diga-dribbly fingers, quickly and hotly stuffing them into one of diga-Dino's pant pockets and trying and trying and succeeding to peel the gloppy mixture of snot and spit like an outer layer off of me. I thankfully manage to flick my fingers off of his soft, yellow material just in time for the diga-door to spill light upon us; somehow we're both still in one piece by the time Breckan's mom, that short blonde lady with the pale skin, sorta like an older female version of her chubby baby son, diga-draws us in.

She mumbles fluff about just how exciting this is and that the kids'll freakin' love it—like heck they will—and that oh, there's some unlocked guest bedroom if we ever need a quick break, one or the other. And them she crams it into half of her breath like she diga-doesn't wanna stick around to see our reactions cuz ohandyourvivosaursshouldstickaroundtoo. That crummy little grin that spreads like milk on Bliss's not-smooth-at-all face sends gooey, grisly diga-disgust sliding diga-down my throat. Very very quickly the acro explodes onto cottony carpet and smirks in this strangely diga-dreamy face. It's a face I really diga-don't feel comfortable being around.

Her rough, rocky tail slung in the air, she waits and waits for her tiny red sidekick to summon the courage to walk on carpet. _Uugh, Mooriiiee,_ she cries, _I haaaate the way my talons feeeeeel! It's so wrong, Morie, so wrrooooooooonng!_ For some time I'm just waiting for Bomba to use the poor m-raptor by her side as some form of transportation but she groans her way through it, using her words as a bridge of escape toward Bliss. They're each small and huggable—and I think their claws are small enough they won't go killing children or anything—the perfect size for some birthday boy on a sugar high to interact with.

This statement somehow rouses Foster, who eyes Nodopi and sends the big, flustered, pink maia trailing after the other girls. He stays in my pocket. Comfortably he stays in my pocket. For now, I really diga-don't feel like questioning him about it all and about all the fluff in his head.

The _patterpatterpatter_ of jumbled paws, from Lone's webbed toes to Pippy's galosh feet to Harei's long heels, splatters happily beyond. Diga-Droplet, being the lovely water vivosaur she is, sends seizes of tears to and fro from her body but otherwise floats—swims?—through the atmosphere, staying close to the ground but not too close. _Hey, do not look at me like that! I belly-flop on the carpet and it's gonna really look like someone peed themselves right there. Have you ever heard of 'community service?'_

 _If I diga-do say so myself,_ I mumble, smirking as she flaps on ahead.

When diga-Dino's gaze searches for me, I stumble slightly at the intensity. Gray. Stone slabs cut open and left glistening in the sun, their crystalline silver insides left to be seen and slandered by all. Sizzling out in the air. Frantic. Searching. I yank at a string-like smile that falls right off my lips. I try to say something—"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier."

"What?" Uh, since when have you apologized out of nowhere? Oh—oh gosh, his expression, it's melting. Diga-dark thunderclouds of feelings out of nowhere burl over his puffing cheeks. I try to set myself in stone when I search back toward him. "Y-Yeah, yeah! I have no idea why you're apologizing but you're fi—!"

"Be-Because I was kinda mean earlier. So I'm... y'know, sorry." Bashful. Now he's bashful. My gosh, he is just a whirlwind of emotions today. He's a moody little girl. Quietly I search him again, and I play for a smile that seems ready for me.

"You're okay, diga-Dino. You always were."

Yes, I know we changed when everything happened... and I know that now he's gotten a lot softer and that—that's okay! of course that's okay! I couldn't care less if he changed his entire identity! for he means that much to me! That much to me..! That much to me... Suddenly conscious of the fact that we're just standing here, unable to look the other in the eye, makes me giggle, just a little, before I gesture toward the hallway again and we go on. I wonder if that's how friends work... and sometimes people get really close, like so close it feels like you're cutting yourself when you tease your best friend. I wonder for no reason whatsoever if that's a thing and if someone else out there might understand, if I might be able to see it one diga-day...

to ask them how they got so close so that I can make sure I get that way with him...

Ugh, I'm so good at this sorta worry that he'll randomly end up with someone better...

Creepily, like he senses something he diga-doesn't like, his hand goes flying and lands casually on top of my head for one second, two, my bangs thoroughly jostled, my nerves thoroughly pried. But that's okay. He's diga-Dino, so, like, that's okay. Of course that's okay.

And thus, prodding through a diga-door that gaped open before we even got to it, we find ourselves surrounded by little creatures with chubby cheeks and littler creatures with rainbow cheeks—I mean balloons, I mean balloons. Their tails clamped tightly by chubby baby fingers and children squeaking in what I think is glee as they chase each other, chase balloons, chase diga-Droplet and try to ask her questions by kid-growling, cuz we all went through that phase where we thought vivosaurs couldn't talk back. It's surprising, but it's this funky warmth jumping around inside, that shocked me into place whenever I learned that they said things too. Maybe it was expected but it scared the turd out of me and I loved them even more just off of immediately.

 _Oh, so, say, perhaps like this? Say I start taking and simply wait for you to love me, love me, love me, Jkonna? That all I have to do for you?_

 _Foster please stop you're creeping me out a little more than usual._ But honestly it's hard to give him the attention I always give him when there's all these blue-eyed babies just staring at us and oh my gosh save my soul but I want to pick them up and swing them around and give them balloons and spoil them until they're rotten to their cute little baby cores.

Quietly Foster reminds me that the youngest one here's at least seven. Or wait _no_ , he's eight now, it's his birthday, and you and diga-Dino are the creepy birthday tefflas that give gifts.

I'm not sure how but in the expanse of last night I also saved enough time to hastily craft some sort of gift-like substance when it was too diga-dark to see and Nodopi's sleepy, diga-dying flame the only light I had to work by. Heck, the only light at all. No diga-Dino. I made an extra gift just so that he'd have a space too. My hands ache with the stitching I've diga-done inside of me, but it'll be all worth it when I hand him this freakin' beanie acro and diga-Dino manages that beanie krona. Oh. Oh turd what about the other kids they'll want like... party favors or whatever it—

 _Jkonna you're not the mom here so calm yourself these aren't your kids you're not married and by the name of I don't know Dino you are not pregnant so shut up._

 _But what if all the weight in my hips is actually a baby bum—_

 _There is no way you're going to convince me that you're related in any way to these children. You got gifts. Good for you. Now try not to step on anyone and keep them rather entertained and you'll be fine. Please stop bouncing erratically in place and I don't know do something, go have, like, fun. It's a good day._

And he's right. I diga-don't know why it took so long to sink in, maybe the fact that I wasn't sleeping last night screwed me over, but he's absolutely right. It's a good diga-day, Foster, a very good diga-day. A good diga-day to be alive, to be happy that everything is going well and there are no friends of I-know-who to possess anyone. That's not—not—not. No. It's over now. Now we're safe, right? He hasn't... said much of anything as far as I can tell. Though using the entirety of my eyes to keep watch of him diga-doesn't mean he won't fall into blind spots eventually. They're quite hard to miss... eventually.

But there is a little kid hand on my leg and a little kid face staring up at me, little kid eyes wide to see me, a little kid smile trembling. So I try to wave. His face, larger than the other little children, squishes in his staring at me, slowly raising from his other hand the tip of a big black marker. His jacket shines of both sloppy and smooth signatures from famous fighters around the world. I can recognize, in a tumbled heap around the back, so he won't see it well, ever, the mark that diga-Dino'd written. I was around when he diga-did that and we both laughed at the stupidity that was he. Now apparently he wants me to sign or something?

Meet Clem.

Awkwardly I take the pen, his face widening, brightening, as he points very diga-directly toward a sleeve. I'd like to ask him why the heck he wants some turd like me to sign—no, I never made it to master fighter and I wasn't very cool or whatever in my battling anyways—or fair in that matter—shut up of course I used to cheat— _used to—_ but I've never seen Clem look so silent. Big and brown eyes, soft and caramel hair. A red flame of warmth shimmering inside of the jacket. Names encircle and mark upon this like it's his own skin, _Dino_ and _Rupert_ and names, names names. Rupert... I wonder, seeing it on the other sleeve, small and gentle like not a person but a flower wrote it. I wonder if it's... Before I can even think of it, Bliss forms out of nowhere, halfway snatches the pen, and writes my name in the biggest most jagged way possible and before I can angrily shove ink diga-down her throat she bolts. Yeah love you too—stupid Bliss. I cap his precious utensil and hand it back to him, he stuffing it into a red pocket.

And after the diga-deed is diga-done, his lips curve. "So youuuu're the famous Jkonna who cleared the famous Dino's fate?" he asks in this snide, Clem sort of way. He always had this awkward voice you wouldn't imagine on a kid, like he's going to pamper and then ruthlessly pine you. Like he's some player kid. Like all of his cards suck but he's pretending they diga-don't. So it goes. "Or was it that you're Mister Doctor Diggins's new diga-diga-dig-daughter?" Ow. "Or maybe you're secretly a, what was it? Digadig? Yes? No? Or per _haps_ you're old pals with, oh, I don't know, Bartholomew _Bull_ wort? Or was it the _Ginner_ family? Or maybe—"

"So if I am, what're ya gonna diga-do?" I snort.

"I'm gonna brag to all of my friends that you signed my jacket."

I'm really not surprised at all.

If I diga-didn't know this kid so well, mark my words, I would be set in awe by the cute-kid-aura he has, only like every other kid in the world. But he's Clem. He's almost rude. I can't tell. So because he's Clem, I know better, for the most part, _Bliss._ She sniggers from the punch bowl she's found and shoved her entire face into. It's a red punch, maybe cherry, strawberry, one or another, one that cloaks and covers her from snout to eyeball. No, not eyelid.

Tossing another strange look at the kid, I move onward. The carpet, so incredibly creamy and rich, nearly sends me into the ground in a tizzy. Foster laughs at my walking, and I laugh at the fact that his fins are diga-dry and he's a water vivosaur. Sure, not all spew diga-droplets, but he feels like he's been in the sun so long his fins diga-don't even know the beginning of it. Sometimes I wonder why, why he's so weird, but I also want him to stay that way, in his weird and mysteriously foggy way, because he's Foster, and I suppose there isn't a better way to put it than I've grown to love him.

He diga-doesn't croon at that. I remain thankful.

At first I just rotate around and try to figure out which kids are here and if I know all of them, at least somewhat. There's a couple little girls, who I find to be named Kristal and Zoe, might've known Zoe before, and there's Robbie and Scoute, a couple of younger ones that follow Breckan around like he is the king, and he sort of is since it's his birthday. The way he stands and pouts happily in glasses that look shiny and new, fitting black frames around his soft pastel sheen, in his big new footie pajamas, it's like he's... like he's... I can only swallow baby tears and smile, smile at the thought of it. It's a little absurd... diga-Dino wouldn't get it if I told him... but that's okay, because these are my eyes and this is what I see, so I'll hold the memory; I'll hold it for me.

He straddles himself happily on his plump little legs, a loop of cardboard tied around his waist and stapled with a tail. I think he's a diga-dinaurian? Maybe? By him, the little girls Kristal and Zoe—bright orange hair just traced in etches of blue—each hold a raptor. Bomba seems the most perplexed by this, Morie's mango lids about ready to close. The two little kids following Breckan each also tied themselves some diga-dinaurian tails. In a really morbid way my brain tells me that Scoute looks like diga-Duna and that makes Robbie to be Rosie? Okay okay I'm getting way too ahead of myself.

Once they've each been thoroughly sugared by punch with an extract of acro and cookies in the shape of probably t-rex—no wait, I think it's krona—oh my gosh what a lame diga-Droplet fan—Breckan's mom summons herself yet again, hands full of great foam mat-like-things this time around. She allows the pieces to tumble to the floor, there being maybe twenty great squishy blocks, each with pictures and pieces covering one another. Gently she has the three of us explain to the kids that it's a huge puzzle and you have to, like, connect all the pieces the right way.

Immediately one of the little girls goes scuttling for two pieces diga-directly next to each other and shoves the ends that match together so that it'll never fit. Her fiery flames of orange hair spring with each attempt, and soon after she sends herself into angry tears that it won't work, won't work, Miss Bibby it won't work! His mom, gentle and sweet, coaxes her through her tears that she must go on and try again in another way. That the pieces will fit, but some of them will not, and that is okay, because in the end the puzzle will still be whole again. Pieces and pieces...

Two boys go running off in other diga-directions, grappling almost diga-desperately onto all of the ones that look sandy, yellow, like a beach, so that maybe this will work. The little girl who cried about her pieces not working shoots the greatest glare I've ever seen at the pinkette who struggles to take one of hers. One of hers that isn't working. She wails, yells, screeches, tries to take them both onto the carpet, and it's diga-Dino who, giggling, tries to set them apart from each other. I think I'm supposed to help out too, try to guide the poor things into roles of teamwork to finish a puzzle that has nothing to diga-do with anything but a puzzle... but I can't bring myself to move.

The boys gently begin the tedious, consuming work of connecting their foam pieces with their chubby hands, one pair just paler than the other. It's revealed that a great, smiling, comical Saurhead's legs and part of his plastic-green-mask of a head lie upon the beach and not the sky, not the Vivosaur Island above. When Morie, frantically chasing after a very frantic Bomba, lands a foot on this piece, she seizes and falls into a halt. Her eyes slowly trace the piece and her face pales alarmingly. _Jkonna, he's... he's... by the shores. You see this, yes? You see this? Jkonna, are you going to answer me? No? Um? Jkonna? Oh, dear, you worry me—AAh! BOMBA! DO NOT SET THAT ON FIRE!_

So it goes...

 _He's here, and I'm here. He may not be fully here, but he's coming back, bit by bit. My colder and weaker eyes flit for the waves to the side, and I watch them wave and wend within one another, and I wonder if it's like charred and broken creases of his missing puzzle pieces are beginning to collect on the shoreline. One of his mind. One where the milkiness all but diga-dries up, where his conscience tries to lap and secure itself again.  
I have to be secure for him, or he'll fall apart. Shards of him will cut and I'll lose my grip and it will be bad, so I probably shouldn't diga-do that... I gotta hang onto him.  
Like some crazy nanny, Saurhead relentlessly follows behind._

A diga-downpour, soupy, viscous, lively chunks of hard thoughts and gentle streams of whispers from the past. It's hard to breathe.

Because it's the only thing I can diga-do, my eyes turn over to the squiggles of children as they move pieces of my story into place. Very, very quietly, a part of my wonders if they are healing me, if they will be the ones to save me after everything I went through... and everything that I know has gone on and on and on again. It's a feeling but I know it; I know it and it hurts.

Children. Little faces and little grins. Little fingers that touch puzzles like skin, fleshy beneath the little body within. And it feels like they're moving me, they're putting me in place when it's just one picture that I shouldn't be so connected to, a cute little picture that children will address one another upon, as they roam and bounce upon their lovely foam puzzle. Theirs, not, mine: but it is... it is...

Nodopi's peachy body bounds off in front of me, her feet leaving marks into the foam until they slowly diga-dispense and fulfill themselves again. Like memories, like erasure. I try to stop but I can't, I'm frozen. Tiny feet lead off and connect smaller parts, a sky, an earth, pockets in the ground that lead to the Compound they diga-don't know about below. The maia murmurs as she moves, _How off... how off, this entire image is very off! Look at this drastic scale reduction. And this building here... it's the size of the Saurhead fellow. How depressing. Though I guess people get away with all kinds and sorts of things when it's little kids they're gifting._

And so it goes...

 _As the child's footsteps slow, so diga-do my lulling thoughts. We walk at an ease, a pace I never knew we diga-did share. He's silent and soft in his voice, which I hear like a cushion as he breathes. I'm quiet, too. Quiet usually isn't a thing I use. I'm... loud. It's... y'know, it's just who I am. Diga-Dino knows. My so... diga-dear vivosaurs, they know too. I'm just loud.  
Jina... he calls me Jina and he holds it, that little name, so precious to him._

It's getting a little hard to breathe with all these thoughts groping inside of me. In my throat, lungs, stomach, heart—soul. They live in me, because they are me, and they were me. Once I thought that I was ashes, that every time I burned I hurt me and I left ashes of me everywhere to rot. But I guess it'd be pretty hard to put a puzzle back together if it was rotting. Rosie hurt me, and I might've hurt Rosie too, but she's not filth, and I... I diga-don't want filth in me. I diga-don't wanna think of filth. I wanna be good, and I wanna be me... and I wanna be able to... to...

Crumbs manage to scatter upon the puzzle and not the carpet. When sponges and wipes tackle the mess, the memories will be clean. Children sit proudly on their throne. Still two pieces kinda should be fit, cuz they're missing, and yet the little redhead girl had them in her hands and they diga-don't but she thinks otherwise, she thinks they will fit. It's not until pudgy little Breckan himself waddles toward her, blonde curls flickering, blue eyes twinkling, and he roughly takes both pieces and smudges them on top of a third so that instead of finishing it he gets his own spot that's better than all the others. And somehow I'm not surprised; when he takes the little girl and shows her how to sit with him, I'm still not surprised. It's when all the little children settle on their places without argument that I wonder.

My diga-dress, silky and soft to the touch, amounting to much more quality than the tunic I tend to wear, bunches around me when I sort of slump in on myself. The kids, prideful and not really paying attention to me at this time, bumble gleefully as they take more snacks and smooth crumbs into their sticky shirts and pants and skirts. They're precious, y'know..? Precious little children. Their hearts aren't heavy, but light and warm and open. And they're ready for anything, at least they think: and it's precious. It's a sweet sight, really.

On the other side of me, covering for my frigidness for all I know, diga-Dino raises his hands and shoos the kids in one diga-direction towards where there's crayons and a great sheet of paper slapped to the wall. Some of them chew through gaping mouths at the sight of it; others giggle a little ferociously. And still they're all precious. Every last one of them.

There's bits of treats and goodies lying halfway on the ground, lopsided, crumpled, half of them empty, half of them sticky, leaky. I'm sure there'll be a tornado of cleaning, or maybe a monsoon to wipe out the gritty lines they paste on the earth. But that's okay. They're so cute and they're learning, slowly learning, to pick up their goodies and put them where they go. They're slowly learning and they're so, so cute. So very sweet. Kind little souls. I like to watch them.

Their attention spans diga-dart around; diga-Dino herds them off. At some point they take for their action figures and I can hear their cute, tiny battle cries that screech for pain and war. Vivosaur action figures. Saurhead action figures that this one kid argues _is too a vivosaur_. It's slow and I diga-don't think it even counts as moving, but I pluck myself and take the things that lie smudged into the carpet and I diga-dust where I can and I wipe with sponges provided by a certain father who diga-dislikes messes more than I think Morie. The trash goes into the usual compost-like situation and my fingers I hastily scrub with the water of some vivosaur's spit or maybe the fountain's babble. I'm slow, like a shadow on the wall over the passing hours by, but I'm working and I'm cleaning and I'm helping and all that. Plus, the kids hardly notice me over the great sun that the world revolves around, the bright yellow sun that is he.

He's so... awesome, in his own, um, ways. And he's kind and... and he's funny and thoughtful and... and he's everything I ever thought of really. Maybe he's gotten all heartful about things, having the new, gentle stroke of a potter on life, adapting to a sort of care without breaking anything. To soft touch and small smiles and big bouts of laughter and his jolly sort of diga-Dino humor, a strange one, a strange one that makes me happy... Of course the kids love him. They crawl to him on their hands and knees if they diga-don't know how to walk yet. Who wouldn't love him..?

 _Tmmtmmtmmtmmtmmtmm..._

Of course I diga-do... there's a reason I'm always striving to try and be so close to him... he means so much to me so of course I diga-do... I've been tired and I've been strained and I've seen the very edge of my life glistening in front of me, a cliff I'm about to tumble over, but that changes nothing. Nothing. Cuz when I think about him, he makes me smile, and that's all that's truly important in the end. Feelings: these feelings.

 _Tmmtmmtmmtmmtmmtmmtmmtmm..._

Anything that we've—everything that we've gone through—it's been sparkling and shining before me. And there are things I wish I could diga-deny. I remember Clem talking though cookie-chewing rows of tiny teeth that he was gonna go on vacation somewhere else soon. The words painstakingly etch across my head, that he was gonna go to see people he hadn't seen before so he could get his very few number of missing signatures. He was telling diga-Dino about it as he grappled his hand.

He mentioned it because—  
 _Tmmtmmtmm—  
_ Because—  
 _Tmmtmmtmm—  
_ There was a girl on the island he was gonna visit.  
A girl whose name was just like—

 _BRAAANNNNGG!_

We hit the ground in a relentless tumble of sun and moon, yellow and black and brown. And red, too. Five feet and a mass of shining strokes of red and orange hair. When we explode, it's flying everywhere.

"Come on." And already he's on his feet, and he's tugging, tugging at me.

"Come on, come on. I got them distracted, come on." I can't catch, in his words, this twisted sliver of glee, one diga-directed towards me, as he tugs and tugs and we go tumbling through a painted hallway and end ourselves sprawling on a guest bed in a guest bedroom in a house, a house we diga-don't fully belong in. My head smacks into the pillow aboard. Scaly hands hold me, more in a tender, trembling wonder that suggests he won't know what to diga-do with himself if he lets go.

Shadows cast like spells on the walls, hissing as they flicker from floor to ceiling. This space was diga-dressed sparingly: the colors random, the painting a slight bit tacky, the quilt bunched around our legs falling apart every few seams. My fingers grapple and only find scales, black and orange and silvery scales. I've been caught. I've been caught by him. My hopeless, light gaze streaks upon him as the words tumble from his trembling tongue, off and into the air. "Jkonna." He manages my name between breaths. "Jkonna, there's... there's... there's something I really really... need... need to tell... tell you."

He's in pain when he speaks. His usually soft but affable, joking but sunny tone has gone and kicked itself in the face. For a moment I really diga-don't know what to diga-do with myself. Our pockets and minds are silent except for the blank thoughts of one another: I wonder wildly if diga-Droplet and the others held back the kids for him.

I wonder wildly where the toys in my pocket went.

He's in my face again. It's always been a soft sort of angular, like his father but rubbed into. He'll probably grow into diga-Dynal's face one diga-day... the thought, off in the diga-distance of the future, a red balloon in the sky, makes my heart heavy. The stone that stays limp on the soil. Permitted no access.

"Jkonna, please, look at me." He swallows. Slowly. "I-It's important. I—really important. Um... to me, at least... I know I've asked you a lot..."

"E-Ehhh! Diga-Dino!" Of course! of course! anything for you!

Bashful streaks of red carouse his cheeks. "It's not really fair to you, though... I've already asked a lot; asking more's like, turd, I'm just asking myself into another abyss, aren't I? Heh... I'm sorry..."

"Wh-What are you trying to say, diga-Dino?" I care about you... I care about you... y'know that, diga-don't you? Can't you see?

Again he can't quite meet my eyes. Yellow bits of fabric burn against me where his hands fall. His breathing is hot, the room is hot, my clothes are hot, I burn in place for a moment as the words diga-dry inside of him and he can't bring them back. The frantic slash of loss crosses his slate eyes and the silent panic he holds nearly kills me; and I can feel it where his hands fall. Then all is silent. Quiet. Fast, and silent, and his gaze forces itself into me and he whispers, "I'm trying to ask if I can keep coming to you like this." The smallest of sighs, a pained flutter locked in his chest, releases. "It's not right, is it? For me to pester and keep—just—it's not fair. You're hurt. I hurt you so much and sometimes I can't tell if you're still denying that I ever did anything. When I did. A lot. Don't even get me... started on..." He refuses to say it.

I'm grateful. Perhaps he sees this in me and words hiss underneath his breath. "G-Gaaah... you don't need to look so happy when I did so many things. I-I really really understand if you hate me now. Be-Besides... it's not like I... it's not... it... a-aaaahhhh... You know they're still here. Them. Um. You know who. I haven't seen much of them, and neither have you, but they wouldn't dissolve like that. We both know what they're waiting for."

I swallow. Slowly.

"Y-Yes. I know..."

He's quiet, so very quiet. "I know... I know you know. That doesn't really change how much I shouldn't keep hurting you." He breaks off into shatters of laughter. "Ha—haha... I'm so awful... a-ahhah..."

"Di-Di-Diiii—" My splutters choke me. "Di—" And yet I... "Dii... Diii..." I have to... I have to... "Dii-iiiino..."

His eyes shudder. Glimpses upon glimpses, churning and storing in the castle of his mind to be kept safe, to be never forgotten. Pieces of memories. Like glass, they reflect the past. Moments, minutes, time and time ago. Like glass, they reflect the past. They reflect his past. A great nineteen years of one single life. It's an important life, so I had to protect it when things were scary and other things were hurting. Once, he was hurting so badly that I could take every single bad memory I ever had, every last blotted thought, muddle it into a ball and toss it at him and it wouldn't be a diga-droplet. Nothing in comparison to confusion, to anger, to loss and fear and pain. Rivers of bleeding pain. Floods of pain. Seas of pain, filling the horizon. So I was there for him.

And so I'm here for him. "Dii-ino... Maybe... I was... hurt." It winded me to rip out a piece of my own accent. "But I wanted to be hurt." I had to rip it out. I had to. "I wanted to be hurt so I could understand you, digadig, so I could see you and know you were there. And then I changed too, like you." If I diga-didn't I'd never be able to say his name, just his name. Dee-ai-enn-oh. Dee-noh. Di...no. Dino.

"Diga-Don't be sad that I changed—please! Diino... be-because it makes me happy to know I get to be with you, just diga you, and that you're okay now... and that I got to help you, digadig, that it was diga me out of... out of everyone! So that's... kinda... kinda cool, digadig..." Softly, I laugh. It's sort of squeezing in my chest, but it's still a laugh.

"Jkonna..." It feels warm, it feels safe, it feels simply... simply _good_ to know that he's got me caught now, and he's caught me into a hug now. That I can sigh now, and I can feel safe, and I can just let go, if I'm scared. Because he's here now. Now he's here. "Jkonna..." And again, he's soft. "I'm sorry, Jkonna... I'm really, really sorry... for a lot of things..."

The glimpse of his angular cheeks just shadowed, just touched, and the frown that pulls against them tugs at me. How diga-deep and soft and small he feels, his eyes a little wide, a little wet, a little diga-dark tugs at me. The way his spiny hair falls just diga-delicately around his head tugs at me; how tight his hands hold tugs at me, really tugs at me. When he whispers it, again, "I'm so sorry," a small cloud of feeling ripples through his open eyes and spreads in a small streak of tears. His tears. Mostly they hit me; I diga-don't care. Let them fall. Let them fall. He apologizes and he very quietly cries and I wait for what I've accepted is coming, what I've stopped diga-denying to exist.

And it comes. It's slow, slurred, like the rest of his words, but it's the truest sentence he's spoken in a long time.

"You're gonna come with me, aren't you?"

And in return I tell him words truer than anything I've said in months.

"Yepperdoo, I'm afraid I am."

Biting his lip, he mumbles, "Please don't make me laugh."

"Really really, digadig?"

"Pleaaaaaase don't make me laugh, Jkonna."

"Oh, what may that be?" I slowly raise a hand to an ear and waggle its clay-colored core. "What is this I hear? Aaah, I see!"

So I tackle him and try much harder than I've ever tried before to make him ticklish.

Maybe it's small, and I'm sure it has nothing to diga-do with me, but a whisper through his lips floats along and fills me. Very small at first. I could hold it in my two hands. I could hold it close to me and feel it there, feel it and know exactly what it is, and keep it safe and protect it from the world. He's laughing. He's laughing. It's so... tender of a laugh. He's truly changed... but it makes me happy now. Because I like it... I like who he is, and I always have, and I always will...

The future is scary. The unknown whisper of the word "future" pressed against my heart feels scary. Unknown. New. Diga-Different—yet again. But... but he'll be there. And he'll be with me. And he'll be happy now, and we'll get through this together. So it'll... it'll be... it'll... I choke through my throat and I tell him I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I cry about the thought of it. So he tells me he'll keep me safe, this time he'll protect me, and he hugs me on the coffee carpet floor where we rest. It's a warm feeling: one that stays with me.

From where I lay, his head stays near me and he murmurs through a yawn, exhausted now, just like me, "Hey, I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you as safe as possible. We'll get everything done before we go, and when we go and we find her and we stop all this madness and everything in between, I'll keep you safe... safe... safe. Because I care a whole lot about you, Jkonna, and... and I'm thankful I have someone who tells me through her tears that she's gonna come with me, even though she's terrified. But this time, it'll be different, and you'll be super duper safe. Dad and Raptin will... will help where they can, and Diggins'll be all cool and junk, and... we'll find her and... and it'll be okay. And Droplet and Pippy, and Foster and Nodopi, Bomba, Morie, Lone, and Bliss... and Harei." The words of the ones I know so well send warm little diga-dots into my heart. "They'll be there too. We won't be alone."

And quietly he tells me like there's nothing else that he can,  
"Thank you... thank you... thank you..."

It'll be scary, but I'll be okay. Not because he'll keep me safe but because we'll be in this together, diga-doing what we've got to diga-do. What means the most to the both of us...

My mind idly spins, and I think of the small island we cleared, the one that used to be the BB Base, the one with the flowers gently combing through it, the one where there's nothing yet.

One diga-day, we'll all be safe... and we'll... we'll have... I swallow. Dii-ii-ii-iiiina. She'll be there. Diii-iiina. She's not safe yet... but... but... she will be.

I'm not sure which one of us musters the courage, but someone's hand diga-dials the knob and spills light into the gloom, and we exit the room together. We party with adorable baby children and I try to gently convince the little redhead not to bite, and we in our teffla clothing, our sparkly and bright teffla clothing. Clem brags about celebrities; Scoute and Robbie follow Breckan around with relentless fire in their hearts. Kids consume cookies. And juice. I diga-didn't know their bladder could hold it. But they fill themselves with sugar and diga-depart somewhat tipsy from the household after hours of sugar and some form of fun. The father who somehow managed to clean everything as a kid lifted their foot out of the last diga-dirty footstep, promptly passed out, and the mom thanked and thanked and thanked me before we finally made it out alive.

Dino promptly shed his tux and shoved it under one arm, about to suggest to diga-do the same for me until remembering I am not a diga-dinaurian and there is no way I'm showing anyone my undergarments— _no thank you._

We meet a certain diga-dad of mine in the gathering diga-darkness, his turquoise baby spines gentle as he moves and gentle when he hugs me and hugs Dino too. He's kind of alarmed when I speak my best friend's name without my accent, and I'm still a little winded every time I say it, but it's worth it, it's worth it, and I'm not stopping. We tell him about diga-Dina and he tells us he knew and he searched a long time ago for her in some sorta diga-databases someone only as cool as him had access to, and again that he already knew, he already knew.

And he tells us he loves us and he's happy to be our "diga-dad." And thank you, oh thank you.

So we tell him we were happy to meet him too, and we'll be back, we'll be back again some diga-day... and we'll see each other again..

 _Foster_

The strange sensation of cloth travels with me, even after I gave that birthday kid the dolls Jkonna dropped. Still, I'm not surprised. A laughable yawn begins to slide through my lips as I just think of her and how scatterbrained she gets. It's funny.

They all managed in some clump or another to all shove into Dino's and Jkonna's arms; I stayed behind. Oh, noooo, noo, I am not some sad futabi with any sort of low self-esteem. I just wanted to walk without the other vivosaurs. To feel the breeze between my dry fins and move around a little in it. Feel s'more alive. Though I've been on the roof of that gingerbread-like house for hours so it's a little silly, I guess, to think I still need some time to think. But, whatever, I do. That's just how I am or whatever. I plod on carefully above the gravel on the ground. If it catches into my fins... ooh, let's not think of such a vile disorder.

The wind's playful tonight. My long neck stretches and tingles with all these blustery sensations hitting it. I smell just a bit like sugary punch because some wise guy spilled it on me before I managed my not daring whatsoever escape. Jkonna stumbles off in front of me with two of the men in her life around her and she's smiling. It's kind of hard to believe for a time, so I really need to let it sink in. She's... smiling. She knows what's coming up, what ancients exist and what sisters of Dino have them dished in her and what bad situations they're in and yet her lips lift and she's free. Free, and she's free, and she's walking the same path she took when she came this way and saw a jailed man and his jailed soul, and she's free. And that, well, makes me a little pleased. Forced a swiggly wiggly smirk to slide safely upon me.

I guess I'll be stuck with her wherever she goes soon. I'm a little surprised she hasn't noticed my missing yet: suppose the others covered for me anyways, though it's not like I asked them to. It's just the sort of thing they do.

Nodopi's weird.  
Bliss is creatively insane.  
Morie worries too much.  
Bomba worries too little.

They're my family now?

My new family, after losing my sister and my old futabi family. What I... once called a family, the definition's changed.

Yeah, sure, they once were. But it's gone now. It's changed now. And that is completely aye-okay to me. I've got a new family now. And perhaps they're weird but by now they're special to me, too.

In all honesty, I'm just trying to distract myself from this increasingly warm feeling fluttering like teffla wings in my chest. It's not quite possible to deny it. I just kind of live with it, y'know, poke it, prod it, mess with it, for a bit. Just waiting. Thinking about useless things. But I also accept it and happily notice it, quietly, somewhere else that I don't pay enough attention to. I pay enough attention to _them_. More than enough, I'd say. But yet I like giving them my time...

Okay. That's it. I'll admit: I'm proud. I'm proud of you, Jkonna. This budding flower in my soul, it's all the thrumming song of pride because I am proud of the lady who just so happened to revive me. She struggled... _a lot_ , and she didn't feel very swell at all, _quite a lot_ , and sometimes I wasn't so sure she was gonna get to tomorrow, but she made it. She did it. Here she is, strolling home, and somehow holding, without thinking, a flower of safety in her fingers. Because she did it. She doesn't have to focus on stupid things anymore because she did it.

For once I think of how bashful I'd be if they saw through my fog. So I'm quite pleased, again, of its existence. And yet try and try as I may the conjuring thoughts of my dear sister don't come, so instead I think of Jkonna, and I think of how strangely prideful I am of her, that she made it. But that's a pretty good thing in and on its own, so I shouldn't be so disappointed in myself.

 **Me: I love Foster more than I should! XD It made me happy and feelsy to make this, oh my gosh. Hahahahaha... ;w;**

 **Foster: -Of course-**

 **Jkonna: get out**

 **Foster: -Nah-**

 **Jkonna: =w=**

 **Oh, so... that's the last Jkonna chapter of tsff ;w;  
but not the last chapter... oh you'll see...**


	38. Welcome the Roses

**Rosie: -violently slams open a door- IS IT HERE?**

 **Me: owo**

 **Dino: OWO**

 **Jkonna: …**

 **Me: n—**

 **Rosie: IS TODAY THE DAY?**

 **Dino: -suddenly faints in Jkonna's arms-**

 **Jkonna: … please go away**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 38: Welcome the Roses

 _Rosie_

 _He-Hey! Those aren't very nice words to say, and that's not a very nice way of saying it in the first place!_

Flustered, my face blushes and I can feel the heat rising through me. My stupid vivosaur's being overprotective again. It's so humiliating, too... And it's like, no matter what I say, he won't change his mind on anything. He's some old-timey _rock_ from the stone age or something... but, I-I mean, he's kind of old, so I guess it makes sense in some creepy vivosaur way. Clay's thick head snorts through his words, and he snorts through my head, finding my thoughts futile or something. Wh-Whatever, Clay, be that way if you have too, you big, weird spinax. The random words I mumble at him of course do nothing as he has some armor that deflects my quiet crying, so it's more or less like I'm just even more stuck with him and his words and what he thinks is the best thing to do. Can't I be a different person than you?

In that low, rocky rumble of his, gray slits close and he murmurs softly to himself more than me. _She uses these words of hers, calling mine sparse and unprepared, as if I am the one emotionally affected by these friends of hers and it's not the other way around. How... funny._ A great, hulking swivel of his great, green head, and a preposterous little snort of his. Groaning, I roll my eyes up into the ceiling.

Pink. Like the walls. Like the throw rugs. Like the shelves. Like the sheets on the bed. Like the bed. Like _me_ ; just like me.

I love Clay and all; he's sweet sometimes and all caring and stuff; but he's... he doesn't understand that I love Dino! I need someone to talk to who can rub my back and tell me I did well, even though I failed in the end, even though there's no way I'll ever end up with him unless he miraculously picks up his heart and declares it feeling romantic feelings again, and I know just how likely that is. I care about him, I care about him so much, but I know it won't go my way, and that makes me really upset. I rub at puffing cheeks, and tired eyes, and I slouch, and I sigh. Pauper might get me, but she's... her mind: it's a little too wizened, a little to higher thinking for me to climb up those stairs and be there with her. My maia and my spinax, who follow me around everywhere, for some reason aren't in my maturity range, like, at all. I'm the whiny little kid and they try to pick me up and take me places, cool and shiny places, but I'm the whiny little kid who kicks and screams. Would if be different if they were? If their mentalities shrunk, and they didn't have all this freaking experience welled up in their heads, and they hadn't remembered so much of their past lives to add more reason to everything: then would it be different?

They remind me of Grandpa, though, and I love Grandpa. Very, very much.

Geez, Jkonna... y-you're not the only one with family problems... a-and all that... maybe you're grandpa's not as cool as mine—but! but still!

Fumbling and fumbling, I kick off my shoes yet again and stuff myself into my bed, biting my lip, telling myself to get my feelings under control when we all know that's something I can't do. Diga-do—di—gahhh..! I stuff my hands into my curls and I just sit there. Face-down in the seas of blankets, pink blankets, I just sit there and scream at myself in my head. It's all inside of me. All of it's just kept inside of me. I wanna work up the courage to see him again but I'm so scared and every time I think about it I'm so scared and then I put on these dumb shoes and pick up my courage and it doesn't take very long to lose it again. It's not like I mean to or anything... there's some things where it really really doesn't matter how hard you hold on because you're going to let go, you're going to. It's just one of those things.

My socked toes stuff into the pillows on the other side of the bed. I kick at them a little. A bit of substance on my feet. A bit of something to feel held on. They're shaped like fluffy little hearts, or big hearts, the whole lot of them: a whole load of turd, if you ask me. Cuz that's... like... dumb and stuff... hearts are dumb... I kick at my pillows again, send a few tumbling off the covers. They're like waves in a storm and I almost laugh.

This time, none of them hit the lamp, the lamp doesn't fall, the fall doesn't break the lamp, the lamp isn't destroyed into pieces, and the pieces won't need to be picked up. So it's kind of like no evidence. I'm not leaving any footprints, not letting it be obvious that I'm upset again. Stupid heart. Making me... like... cry all the time. He cries too. A lot. But I don't wanna disturb him or anything... it'd be rude... Surely Clay and Pauper can hear me, but I very purposefully don't raise my voice toward them, and they respect me. They're nice like that. Like sweet old people. That name brings out the peeved feelings in them, which is sort of funny. But I guess that's rude, especially when I'm such a mess...

But that's not allowed, is it? That's not allowed to go and pester him now, while I'm in my pajamas and crying the life out of me, is it? That's not allowed, is it? No, no, it can't be, it can't be. I thread my fingers through my masses and masses of pink curls and I hiccup through my feeling yet again. No, that's not allowed... I'm not sure how, but that can't be... It's just a thing that I... that I know...

Seeing me all sudsy in my tears gets Clay to creak open one muddy eye. He searches away from me when I hiss back at him; it only lodges that stone in my heart further down. But wouldn't it be bad if I let Dino see me like this? Isn't it wrong, or something? What... if... Exasperated, embarrassed into the very fringes of my life, I play that game in my head, the one where I ask myself what I'd do if he was my boyfriend, how I'd react now. The twinkling of mud in the corner of my mind rains thick, hard backwash through me like I'm some sort of failure. We-Well, I'm sorry, or whatever...

If... if we were—to—together—right now—I would... I would go to him anyways. Because he wouldn't care how tired or yucky I might look, would just brush my hair gently as he tells me that he cares about me and always will. He'd smile, too, and it would be a very nice smile...

A little shiver runs through me.

Can't I just bottle up his grin and keep it with me? Hold onto it when it's all cold and gross out there, keep me warm right here? Right where it matters? When my thoughts get so hazy and they coil and coil all around him, I settle, my body laying gentle against the covers, my feet still from their feelings. Just the thought of him helps me. Sometimes I almost wish it wouldn't, so it'd be easier to accept that his feelings are final and that he's gone through so much, and why can't I understand that, anyways? It's stupid. I'm stupid. Jkonna's stupid, Clay's stupid—but... but _he's_ not. No, he's never stupid.

Impulse guides me off my bed and onto the carpet. I more crawl on hands and knees than use much of my feet: they drag behind me as I make my way for the dresser I've got laid out to one side. Stuffing my fingers into a random drawer, I shuffle through bits of clothes and junk I don't care about and come upon the slippery coat of glass protecting something very important to me. Gently, slowly, I pull it up and out of its hiding spot and pull it close to me. It's glass and the frame's brass; and yet it's warm.

 _D-Don't give me that look, Clay. So what if it is a picture of Dino?_

He gives me that look anyways. Like some crazy balloon I practically feel the heat rise to my face and I stumble over my tongue, frantically reaching for my shoes yet again. The leather catches on my hands, and with one hand in a loop and the other touching his picture—one or more than I dare mention—a strange brush of cool, slick calmness emerges. It always takes something to get me to think of him, something about him if I'm gonna release all this hot tension. Mottled and knotted and bottled away in me. Not sure why I store it. Not sure what I'm storing it for. Why it needs to be saved anyways. But I save it and I hold it in my heart and I explode. It's just a thing that... thing that happens. That always happens. Ugh. Makes me wanna, like, laugh at myself or something. My finger traces the brass of the frame and I wish its little spiral curve, its backbone that holds him together for me: I wish it'd protect me.

Maybe nobody else does, but I still remember back when we first met. I was the one who reached out to him first!—I mean after Diggins or whatever. They all swooped in and found their places after me. So I'm first. So I'm special, right? Yeah..? I remember back when I used to... used to wear shoes all the time. They were small and simple: pink slip-ins. My honest-to-goodness favorite pair. But I took Dino's shoes because he was being mean and wouldn't give me back my hat; and then he took my shoes because I took his. Something crumbles inside of me where my fingers lie. I'm breaking so many rules with these things... but I... but I thought if I tried to walk in them... if I tried to break the rule... on purpose...

But it still hurts, so I'm just as useless here! I toss a hand from the teeny sandals, the ones that fit my size perfectly, so small and... and stupid, and I clutch his picture closer to me, because he means a lot to me and no matter what I do I just trample my... myself. I'm like a bunch of roses stepped on or flattened or something. Nobody really paid attention to the thorns so it didn't matter in the end... gaaaah. I can't help it. I can't help it. I'm going to think about him sometimes and it's going to hurt.

Somehow, I feel like he knew. Somehow I get this feeling inside of me that when he waved and went on his way, on that day, before he left, but after he told me those things, somehow in his bright, open, warm gray eyes he saw this and he knew. He knew it was gonna hurt anyways. I can't just let it go. I'll be... I'll be... it's like I'll... It's like if I...

Hazy and droopy, the thought happens in front of my eyes, me hurling this picture away from me and it snags on my clothes and it tears and it never, never, ever lets me go and I only get hurt more.

But I... but I won't do that. That'd be bad. I don't wanna hurt him. No, no, I don't wanna break him. He probably can't even tell...

When I raise myself to my feet and dig through all the skirts wedged into this drawer and I've assured myself that there's no way in ever one of the servant dudes will ever ever see this one, I rest and pull myself to the carpet yet again. I just sit on a rug. Just kind of curl up there. My gaze darts from spot to spot on the ceiling, bits and bits of well-smoothed wall. Grandpa said we could paint anything I wanted on it instead of just pink...

My feet kick at the sandals and I let them push them far, far away from here. Maybe I'll get them on later or something. Yeah, um, maybe.

The voices in my head, Pauper and Clay, swirl around with their suggestions, and their thoughts, and their questions and so on. They're always trying to construct a nice little path for me, one surrounded by the paisleys and the daffodils and all the pretty little flowers, one pre-cut and pre-walked for me. And if I stick to the trail and I don't run off to the forests lurching and looming on either side, then I'll be fine, then I'll be fine. But but there aren't... there aren't paths like that, are there? If there were I wouldn't be collapsed on my rug that smells faintly of reptile, thinking about all the photographs I've saved of him, worrying about how he is, my mind just revolving around him and him alone. It kind of... kind of hurts, knowing it like that. But that's kind of because I thought I was saving him when we first met.

And so he "owed me." I hadn't any friends so more or less I was the one clinging to him and begging at him not for him at him to stay, stay, stay, because I'd be desolate if he went away. Don't want him to go away, want him to stay with me... And so Medal-Stealer— _Stealer—_ Joe nabbed my medals and he had to help me get them back. And then the stupid digadigs cursed me and he had to do all the saving on his own— _and then he met Jkonna too_. And plus I got stuck with all those scary denture sharks underwater and he had to help me then: and of course who can forget when I got _kidnapped_! And when he saved me, prince in his armor, and he... more or less carried me away in his princely arms— _more or less—_ and I told him my feelings and I think he was okay with it... I thought... I thought... The memories really unfold all these elaborate moments of joy, but it only sharply stabs me again that he doesn't, almost like he can't, feel that way now. He can't... love me like how I love him. But I can't be strong for him, like Clay thinks I should be; can't flit and fall into him and beg for forgiveness, beg for anything like Pauper thinks I should be...

That's cuz I'm me, darn it... and I'm not them... and their rightful path isn't mine... but what am I supposed to get up and do with myself? How can I peel myself off the ground and find anything that catches my eyes? What I want won't hold me; what I need won't take me... gaaaaahh!

It's diga-difficult when things are—

Hopeless. My hands hit like a slap and I cry into them. So small... My bunched, moody curls, impossible as ever to stuff into hair bands, spring and crawl like creatures coming to life around me, like little monsters out from within me. It's creepy. I should... I should at least get out of this nightdress. It's comfy and it's safe but, but... What was it... what were those words...

" _Rosie."_

" _Yeah, Grandpa?"_

I clutch them into my memory.

" _They need you over in the Fossil Center, Rosie. Dino and Jkonna need you over, Rosie."_

I hold them and I hold them until my hands imprint from within them.

It's kinda hard to convince myself to get dressed and get going when all of these memories flicker like mirrors in tandem, swinging around my face. There's the past... there's my thoughts... there's a lot of things, really. And I'm just so... so pink. What if I feel gray today? What about blue? Whatever. Oh my gosh...

Ya think it'd be so easy to just get up and go but I really really don't work like that. Just because Clay thinks one thing and Pauper's ideas are almost identical doesn't mean I can somehow fit into this mold of iron that's only able to sustain some older person... like... like Grandpa. He's probably already gotten himself together and visited by the Fossil Center. He and Doctor Diggins both went over whatever it is and if I know either of them they might as well be dunking some sort of pastry in coffee. Curiously I lift my head and smooth the wrinkles in my nightdress, and I wonder, quietly, if I can go in just this instead of worrying about the clothes and the shoes... if I can just go in this big, white, airy bag of clothing that's soft to the touch. Now, of course, as it always must be, Clay and Pauper wouldn't agree with me; but what if this is just how I feel? What if I wanna... I wanna...

Muddled whispers escape from my ears. I angrily toss myself to some sort of sitting position and slap my hands into the rug. _You guys are keeping secrets again!_ It's not something I can just stop myself from grumbling all over: I never... liked secrets. Dino never kept any from me... he only kept one from himself, but that's a whole different story.

Maybe that's it; maybe I'm _scared_ to see him or something. Or scared of Jkonna—g-gaah, why wouldn't I be scared of Jkonna? She's terrifying! She's reckless and harmful and thoughtless and bold, everything and more that I'm _totally_ not! And plus, she probably knows more about what she's doing than I do. She probably, every morning, woke and understood that even though Dino was going through scary stuff, she had to help him: I bet every single day she woke with a smile just knowing she'd be there for him! And then she lashes like a lambeo or something, I don't even know... I feel so useless when I see her because she's the one by his side and the one supporting him and... and everything! Maybe he can't love in that way but I know that he really really loves her... and she really really cares back. And it's annoying because there's absolutely no way for me to get in!

 _Dino hurt you once; and so I hurt him. We could always ki—_

Oh my gosh. _NO. WE ARE NOT! DON'T EVEN SAY THAT, CLAY! MAY—MAy—Maybe... maybe I wanna be that person to help Dino, and it's stupid that Jkonna has to be that one, but... but... If she's doing her best, and that makes him happy, then in the end it doesn't really matter. I'll figure it out eventually... o-or something. Right now I gotta do what's important. They had something to say to me! Clay, we gotta get rolling!_

 _You have been sitting here since dawn: debating how to approach them, wondering what you should wear, mussing over your sandals, screaming and kicking your pillows, inevitably finishing no single part of the single task your one and only grandfather asked you of._ He grunts, clears his throat. _And so now would you like to be started?_ Muddy eyes twinkle, but only a little bit. Pauper leans in from the other side, her maia bulk shadowing his big green back.

When I stand up, it takes the full duration of three seconds before I fall to my knees. _But but but but but but... the-there's so much I've gotta worry about... an-and... and what if... what if they... they don't like me anymore anyways... and I'm worthless and useless, and I'm stupid... and dumb and and... Jkonna's better..._ Wallowing agony; what am I saying: of course she's better! She managed to rig herself into our lives and... and make him... make him... him... happy... And where does that put me, anyways? Where am I? That's right; I don't know; I'll never know, at this point.

 _No matter your thoughts, you shall one day be queen of the Richmond foundation, putting it lightly. Kew, yew, ee, ee, enn. You shall one day be ruler of the Vivosaur Island. You shall one day be watcher of these people and helper of the harmed; you shall one day take your place at your rightful throne after your grandfather passes onwards and his transcending soul tells you that you will do good, here, for this is who you are. You will put great work here, for this is how it shall be. Yes? See, my dear?_ Pauper's great eyes flutter a little cheerfully when she tells me this.

I sort of break. Right in half. _I-IIII-IIII—buh—buuuuuuuuHHHT! DI-DIGADIG-DINO-NO!_

 _I think I shall carry her toward the festivities at this time._

 _Yes, Clay, I think that is a splendid idea. Be careful around the legs; she is still kicking strong._

 _Yes, Pauper, of course, dear._

Gentle and smaller claws catch and take me, placing me somewhere along a spine, between two different spikes. Instinct convinces me to tuck my fingers into the hulking green mass in front of me, to hold on tight, to wait. It's a soft rumbling of a journey, of thick feet and smaller arms swinging, swinging, waving toward the people in red around. It's a gentle and slow journey, too, one suggesting a whole lot of care and not much of a time to meet, just a need to get there.

For a glittering moment, the world condenses around me as he takes a hefty leap: jewels from the ceiling go shining and a skylight beaming from high, high, high above, just for one single glittering moment, shakes in my sight: then it all comes tumbling down with the mighty crash of a wave. Of a wave of Clay's feet mashing against the rivers casually running through the Richmond building. To this day I've never been able to tell if the hinted waterfall at the back was real or not... Its water sprays, so it looks real, looks real like a great many things out there, but if it's not..? Fake...

We burst from nicely-carved doors and hop down a flight or two of steps. Out into the sunshine sprays light and blue, lots and lots of big and blue sky. I don't get much time to look; Clay lumbers onward, faster now, picking up speed as all he has to avoid now are buildings somewhat taller than him and the regular person. No chandeliers. No expensive thingies Grandpa bought cuz he's all for classiness like that. Just motion and the thrumming of his big, warm toes on a well-done path. _Perhaps some roads you feel unable to travel,_ he ventures, _but it seems this one suits you and most anyone else quite finely._

 _That doesn't really make sense..._ I drop my eyes to the mud he churns, giggling when it makes funny _squelch_ noises.

 _Of course it would not._ He sighs between my bits of laughter and that makes me laugh even harder, drowning him out in one way or another. My fingers hold tightly to him, because he's Clay, and he's my rock, and if anyone's gonna stick with me till the end, it'll be him.

When we go on past the Resort Area and stumble over some flowers, Clay avoids the roses that were crushed a few months ago by some futabi or something and effectively crushes the nearby petunias. The way he focuses in on those plants like they're his mortal enemy causes me to sort of yell at him to _stop_. He does, but not without another slow, satisfying stomp. Weirdo...

For some reason, I'm reminded of Lone...

Clay lumbers and lumbers once more, on and on until reaching the Fossil Center, and, shrinking, places his small arms upon my shoulders and asks more than tells me to try to do my best and not worry so much about the bright white clothing bunched up around me. The things I never changed out of. The shoes I never put on. The hair I never managed into bands, now free and wildly roaring around me, curls and curls and pink. And it's a really loud pink, too, it's so bright and... and _uncomfortable_. Shaking my head, my spinax flips into his medal and lands green and shiny on my palm. I put him away in a pocket by Pauper and slowly enter the cool chambers of the Center. Questions screech inside of me like monsters: What if they're all mad at me for still wearing my pajamas? what if I'm late? what if... what if they _don't_ need me anymore? If I really am inferior t-to scary Jkonna... Maybe I won't know until I show, but why do I have to go in the first place? Why can't I stay back or run away, when then I'd feel way more safe?

Gaah—Rosie—stop that! It's not very important. I wanna see them a-anyways, don't I? I mean, of course I do; I'm just this awkward and dainty and thin... thin rose. Of course I am.

Somehow I manage the steps toward the booth to the side. Wendy's perfectly done face and perfectly curled, blonde hair frames her where it's not kept in its bun. Her lips purse and her makeup's ideal, smooth, cut and done and pretty, pretty, pretty, as it always is. And somehow she makes her minty green jumpsuit work. Blue eyes perched, she murmurs in her slow and soft voice, "Dear, dear Rosie... How may I help you today? Would it be that invitation Diggins sent to you and your grandfather? The one about visiting his office area, having a few words to share... Oh, yes, yes. Is that it?" Even though she can tell I've hardly tried dressing myself up today, she still offers me such a sweet smile.

"Tha-Thank you, Wendy!" I cheep. "It hasn't been all that easy for me today, so I'm sorry about the me—"

"Oh, Rosie, don't worry about it! We all have our off moments!" Aw, she's so sweet, isn't she! I can't imagine a soul making her bristle! They must be some stupid scum if they do, anyways. Ulgh. Wendy's so cool. "Just..." Her voice lowers a bit, lashes flutter some. "Be careful. I heard that those Dino and Jkonna kids..." She pauses and her head rustles on her shoulders. "They're out and about, too." Isn't she such a joker, too? Oh, I love Wendy. Her eyes flash small bits of darker concern but otherwise she smiles and I walk my way off. Down a small corridor of fluffy purple carpet, I stop, and I try to remember which door the office is. It was something important...

Gah, my shirt's so light in comparison to all this purple. I'm sticking out... I'm sticking out. It's an uncomfortable feeling, one that crawls in my body and leaves me shaky. Dino, where are you? I know you're here somewhere; please, please, come out soon. What keeps me from scaring myself is the truth, the strong and hard truth in my head that Wendy told me he and Jkonna are out and about, too. She didn't seem the happiest about it—she can be quite a joker—but still, still... I know this. I know this. It resounds in my heart and I smile because I know th— _AT THIS IS THE BEST DAY IN THE WORLD AND RUNNING THROUGH HALLWAYS IS—_

 _L-LO-LONE!_ When did she get here! Dino! Dino! Dino!

Frantic, I trip myself over just to grasp that wiggling, purple tail into my fingers and tug her close to me and hold her, hold her, never let go again. She squawks with each tug, and she cries within an inch of her life, because she's Lone, but I dig my nails in even further until I've gotten settled. Curled up on the group with a nasaur practically leaping out of my arms. So, here I lie, sucking air off the tip of the world with everything I have, face blustery and red—well, pink, whatever—staring at the wide-eyed creature with wider pink depths. Trilling in place, spinning in place, Lone gives up, one or another, and puffs her teeny cheeks at me. _Where's Dino?_ I try to ask as innocently as possible.

For half a second it really looks like I'm about to lose my nose, until, _Gaaaaahhhhhhhhahahh! There you aaaaaare! Maaaaaaannn! Everyone was like soooo confused because you were soooo not here and Dino got all angsty like the Dino he is and Jkonna was soooooo guilty like she thought she ate you or something in her sleep—haaaaahaahaaaaahhh._ She burps in my face. _It was super duper funny and I ate every last cookie._

 _Yeah, I can tell..._ I'd be madder about this if she wasn't the key to Dino and if I wasn't such a mess anyways. The sensation of sugary, mouth-watering sweets cascades through me, edged in the scent of backwash, until I really do wish she had bitten off my nose. I don't think I'll need it much more. Before she can go I scoop her through my hands and squeeze her tightly to me, practically strapping her to my chest. For some reason Lone squeals a whole lot throughout this. I just ignore her; she's coming with me; Dino, how I must see Dino. _So anyways, where is he?_ And I watch her.

And she watches me.

 _Ummmm... Lo—?_

 _I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS ROSIE PLEAAAASEEE IF YOU'RE GETTING ANYTHING OUT OF ME PLEAAAAASEEEE STOOOOPPPPPPP._

Face all the redder, I try not to hold her so tightly. The tiny girl visibly eases herself apart, sighing and trilling and singing all in one blow, until a hesitant map of the Fossil Center paints through my mind with her squealing voice. Oh, it's just the second door to the right... I totally swear I knew that! It's... it's just... I thought, "Dino," and I lost it.

 _Lost what?_

 _Sh-Shut up, Lone._

Ugh... I really am such a mess. Awkwardly I smear a free thumb over my cheeks, wet and hot and puffy, and try not to wince so much. The shuffle of my bare toes over plush carpet fuels of freedom, footfalls of freedom, should be such a wonder, but I stare in my oversized clothing and my curly, undone twirls of hair, and the fact that I haven't worn a pinch of makeup, and I'm not so sure. It's just things like that, right? It's just... these little things. I swallow the pride that went missing months ago into my throat and struggle to open the door. Lone gently peels back my fingers and jiggles her thumbless appendages over it, snorting with its refusal. When I place one hand on brass, and her fingers copy, some way or another, we manage to enter. The moment that four or five or so pairs of eyes roll over me I fish for both of my hands and smooth over my awful looks. My face is... it's so round... Dino's all ha-handsome and angular and tall and he's not—this—pink! He-Help me...

On a slice of instinct and mostly because it's all I know and all I can do, I pelt for the dinaurian standing around with the others and hide my head within him and shudder a lot more than I should. His giggles infect me with his sunny, sunny, sweet self, and it makes me giggle back, just a tiny, tiny bit. Only a bit does he pat my head, but it stays warm where he's touched me. Casually, drawling out his bright but blunt Dino soul, he murmurs, "Well, it look like the final party guest has arrived."

"Dino"—yeep!—"shut uuuup. This hasn't been a party and I diga-doubt it's gonna turn into one just because diga-dear little pinky showed up." The scary part isn't her sarcasm, or her obvious obliviousness to how much she scares me, but the way his name is highlighted each time she speaks. "Diiino! Ha... But it's kind of cute, digadig? I guess?" I hiss through my teeth at the sound of Jkonna's fire. She just laughs, laughs, laughs; I hide more into him because he's safer.

More laughter. This from warmth, like a beach, somewhere gentle and safe and not a volcano of heat. "Maaan! Rosie, I hate to break it to you, but it's not hibernation time, and I am not a cave. So please excuse... yourself? Am I saying that right?" Again the fits and the giggles. "Shut up, Jkonna, I'm trying my beessst!" And when she tells him that his best isn't enough, I manage to withdraw, slumping to his side as close as I can get. Still, Jkonna, a bit shorter than me, manages this better and I am just _left_. Ugh.

Paperwork fills all parts of my vision that isn't Dino, and around the cluttered stacks lies a person or two. Grandpa. The flashing glasses and stark contrast of color in Doctor Diggins. A potato of a vivosaur loiters around a couch sofa, and it takes me the entirety of five seconds to register her as that acro thing of Jkonna's—yeep! her really scary one that acts a little like her! As fast as possible I tear myself away from that thing and try and try and try to get as close to Dino as possible. Maybe it's not supposed to be a competition... but it... but it is. For me.

"Why the heck diga-did we elect to meet in here again? It smells like compost or something, digadig."

Fits and giggles.

I sulk by the side of the boy all of my attention I've pinned on. He doesn't seem to waver in the slightest, even with all these thoughts and all these feelings on his shoulders. I wonder if he feels them in the first place, if he even cares... and why these feelings can't go off and die. But I don't know, and that's the point of it all, isn't it? Or something. I lurch back when out of nowhere that acro goes spinning for Jkonna's small, dark hands; she swings the teeny potato around in her arms and, laughing, deposits her on the table in the middle I can hardly see with Lone. Lone burps again.

The doctor moves himself, struggling, from the position by the other side and further in; Grandpa follows him kinda quietly, kinda quickly. I shift from where I stand. Tug a bit on Dino's arm. He doesn't look back at me and I swallow my lump of a heart.

"Did I..." My voice feels so small. I stumble over the words. "Di-Did I... miss... miss a-all the important things or... or..."

Flustered looks hit everyone's faces. It doesn't take long to find that kind, simple sympathy, all syrupy and sweet in Doctor's turquoise eyes. The reflection from eye to glasses to me only amplifies how I feel deep on the inside. He's always been a nice guy. "Err... to be honest, heh, seeing who I am, you can't trust me to remember every little detail, buuuuut..." His eyes roll to the ceiling; his face offers shining bits of friendliness. "I'm feeling like we hadn't gotten very far whatsoever. Jkonna and Bliss were mostly goofing off; she and Dino really wanted to wait for you! And—don't worry about taking time! Really, no one minds. We get it."

N-Now I'm all embarrassed, anyways... g-gah, what am I? Oh my gosh... Swallowing past indigestible chunks of emotions, I brush over my cheeks again, feeling so unprotected without my blush, without my mascara, so, so unprepared for the rest of the world to eke in, even with my grandpa right over there and the doctor just in front of me. They're both nice, but the room is burning... burning... all this paper...

Dino doesn't stare at me like a whole new person; I wonder if this is just another difference he'll never notice of me... Ma-Maybe it's better this way! Now I'll feel less able t-to rely on him! S-So much better! Right! I dissolve into myself, hands tight little balls by my sides. Awkwardly I try to nod. I wonder if anyone can tell... but I feel so obnoxious when those icy eyes try me. Jkonna's... ju-jus—

"So then I guess I'll take out the medals now?" Mister Diggins doesn't seem to notice all that much that he's cut through my thoughts; I try to pretend I wasn't thinking of much as heads bobble and his hand goes to one of his pockets and out comes a pair. They're little discs, clear and shining, each end surrounded in a thick and harsh shell suggesting protection, or maybe power. One brims with red; the other, blue. I wince. My gaze involuntarily shifts... icy blue... fiery red... and orange...

The shudder that claws through her body does get noticed by the boy sandwiched between us. When her face grows pale, his eyes reflect oozing concern upon her; when she shakes and steps back, he steps back with her. And he tells her words, little secrets, bit by bit, all to her, words in his sweet voice that only she gets to hear. When he moves back toward the rest of our messy little cluster, Jkonna hangs back, the clinging of shadows thick upon her body. I feel like that... I-I feel that...

When he grunts and bites his lip, I almost miss the display in his hands, the fire and ice that he holds and he holds so tightly, so tightly to him. Acceptance of po-power... of fire and ice... of icy eyes and fiery soul... of... And he took both of them. Is that—is that allowed? Was... Jkonna supposed to...

Slowly, I piece together the story. There's gaping pieces open, spots that I'm gonna fill, maybe: but Dino and Jkonna had those two... those guys, and the-they had to take them back o-or something... and Jkonna couldn't do it? And he's—the stain on his face and the ice in his hair—what if... what if it... Ancients kill... ancients kill... what if it... what if it... he... he can't... he... can't... can't...

 _CRACK!_

Everyone in the room starts.

Dino slowly shakes his frozen head out of its hung posture, slowly regulates himself, and very, very slowly removes the vivosaurs from sight. Face the lightest orange I've ever seen it come, the slithering of a body stuffed with water explodes into the atmosphere. Droplet more or less comforts him; she showers him in a waterfall of fluid and his breaths come slow and long, and he waits, and he rests, and he nods. Bones _crr-crr-crr-raaaaaaaaacccck!_ All of those. All of those in his neck.

Oh my goodness I think I'm going to faint.

Hel—p—

Clay's head is in my mind, breath in my ears, calm and slurred and soft, always there, always there. Diggins tosses me this really scrunched, really quiet look and asks me if I need anything to drink but I just angrily shake my head. I'm too scared, but... but if I wasn't... maybe I'd, maybe I'd tell Jkonna just what... just what I... just what I... And yet my eyes follow and slink and go to her, and she's frozen in place, hands twitching, shaking, one over her lips and the other fallen aside like it's too shocked to do much of anything. The burning in her gaze suggests who she's really mad at; the ice in her limbs tells her she can't do anything.

Gentle, gentle. Dino's always so gentle now, and it only makes me love him mo-more. The way he's slow in his movements, slow to try and manage to crack a grin, slow to wave and tell Jkonna he's okay, the ancients are more or less okay—and gay, he tries to joke off of—always so very very tender now. And always he's soft toward her. Fearful, stuck in her rut of thoughts, Jkonna can't move toward him; her hand limply reaches but it falls and she lets it go. Scared of touching him. I-I don't blame her... but she's... she's... The anger falls like her fingers, and I tug at it, desperate, but it won't come, and I know it's never gonna.

He bites for a smile, this time turning toward me. He's slow and gentle and it's not scary when he moves so rigidly, the sound of the cracks still ringing, ringing in ears. "I'm okay. It... hurts a little, but..." When he spins over, immediately the Doctor catches him, tosses papers labeled **Registration of Nomadii Cup** like they don't matter, as bold and shining as they sound, and he lays him gently upon the orange cushions. They keep him safe. Dino's eyes flutter as he struggles to, at the very least, sit himself upwards; awkward and stupidly I toss myself to one side, and through pants, he mutters his thanks.

His back is against mine. We're touching and he knows it. He's not thinking about it, not this much, he's thinking about what he did for _her_ and she's thinking about it, too, but I'm thinking about shining black scales against cloth and past cloth and on my pale, pink skin.

Words are on his lips before I manage my first one. "Y'know, you look... cuter... without all that stuff on." It's a struggle, like everything else he's said—but he—he took out the effort to talk to me. My soul cries from wherever it lies within me; papers scatter out from below me. Jkonna stays in her corner.

Gray orbs shine from where they hit me; I thrash in this nightdress that he obviously could bother to care more about. And yet he doesn't. And it's not like Wendy's thoughts, which kindly accept that today isn't my day and I'll be all dressed and prim tomorrow; he really just doesn't care. He's happier with me being me, and if that's blown-up cloth and bland white fabric, then that'll do. I look like Jkonna. She always has that dress thing on, the one with the brown that fits her so fine and simple. I don't wanna be like Jkonna...

But everyone has a piece of everyone else. I can't be completely like anyone; and so I also can't be on the opposite side of anyone else. It's... it's impossible. It's hard enough as it is to find one person who doesn't like cake, or candy, or coffee or something: someone with enough thought and change to be completely off of your ideals in all and any way... of course I'm going to resemble her. Somehow. For some reason I don't like accepting this, not at all. Lone's big, cyan eyes zone in on me, soak up in me, from her perch on the table now showing glassy splotches. Happily her body lifts from one spot and jumps into Dino's lap, and she trills from this perch.

"Yeah... hah... love you too, Lone," he murmurs, so quietly, fingers guided by the way his nasaur's head lilts and twists, petting his purple buddy who's come so far with him. She's satisfied and so is he... of course they are.

By his side, on his lap, another potato allows herself in: although this one is golden, like the sun, and her shimmer reflects on everyone from where she lies. Lone happily chirrups at the sight of her friend; Harei's blush looks too heavy for her face.

Sullenly I stare off through the papers of the room, past the people of this plane, and I can't help but think about him and wonder why I'll never make it. Why I'll never... never...

Soft thrums against the Fossil Center throw me off for a moment there, causing he and I both to nearly fall. Grandpa, from where he stands by the Doctor, wrinkles his old face, shifting. "Rain again. The sky has been crying for quite some time lately..." His low but welcoming rumble files through the chamber. His wizened old eyes drop for the boy rested up against me again, and he nods a bit. "Dino, if you don't mind my asking, I believe it'd be best if you told Rosie everything yourself. I'll go run for a drink, if it helps your throat or anything, but... you know how she is, lad. And you know she'll need to..."

"Oh, yes, yes, totally." A cheerful nod for a childish boy, drained and drained of his usual flair. He's still smiling, even with the cracks and the rings in his ear. Shyly, as my grandpa moves off again toward the edge of the chamber, Mister Diggins wends his way for his, well, daughter, and he smiles toward her and the shivers begin to fade. Bliss—that acro—has already gone and folded herself in her friend's arms. I sigh from where I lie and listen to the tears that won't fall from my face.

 _Ssshhhhhhhhhh..._

It's like a gentle whisper.

Dino brings up his voice, and, smiling, tries to tell me about something new and very different from all the struggles he's just ended through. He tells me about old things, about when we met and about when we found Iggy, and he tells me Thomas, too, and all the lovely adventures we'd taken. He tells me about Thomas returning, about scary ancients and possession and confused people and worry. He tells me about a beach and Jkonna's fear, and he tells me about how happy he was when I managed to come back for him. And how he feels now, how much better off he is. The way his eyes search mine just tells me that he's been looking for a way to express this; my heart warms, glows, just a little bit. And it's more than enough feeling to sail over the moon. Dino... Dino...

Tea wends its way around for all and he takes his time before trying to word this one out. He reminds me, very softly, of his family. Of family he so dearly loves who visit him more often than he has the shamelessness to admit, a dad and a Raptin... and a sister. A missing sister. A missing sister in a very bad place, scared and lost and alone just like all the other ancients. Needing help. There might be less than a soul on her side... he tells me that Mister Diggins knows where she is, right at this moment, and he tells me Jkonna's coming with him.

Thunder lurches, a wail of a dance, a warble over the sky. I try to cover my ears, try not to cry.

"But—But Rosie... that's not exactly what I'm trying to say here. I don't wanna leave you alone, I swear. It's not that at all. While Harei and Lone... and Droplet, and Bliss, and everyone is coming with us, you'll have the others, as per always. There's so many cool people out there you have yet to meet who would love to meet you. There's this weirdo, Holt, I think you'd love to be friends with, cuz he's... sort of like me but a lot younger than the both of us. There's kids and older people and McJunker and Woolbeard... there's level-up battles... and uh... other than that—there's...

"It's that... I've been doing a lot while I've been around. And especially now, with all the... ancients. I'm not completely sure; like, Diggins said one of his old friends or whatever found these stories about the past and that some really messed up and powerful ancient was doing bad things and now he's dead or something and everyone is in, well, discord. Anarchy. All those fun things. And I've... been able to hold some of them off at times, but I know that you have more medals than me—you had _fifteen_ when we first met, shut up. And more. Many more. You can keep watch on the Island and help keep everyone safe while we run off and have fun saving my sissy... Heh."

Blushing, his eyes are on the vivosaurs. Harei manages to glimpse back; Lone snorts back at me, like she finds my gape funny o-or something.

"And then there's also the fact that Pippy would kill me with begging if I didn't do anything."

Laughter. It punctures my heart, bursts through my lungs, and I almost do cry. But... but I'm done crying. Let the rain fall... let the rain fall... Let it fall without me...

And somewhere nearby, I know there's a petite seismo smiling ridiculously much, hiccuping over his "pip-pips" and wailing over "cheerios." Sweet old Pippy... When I move over and pet his vivosaurs, his smile infects me; when I move over, Jkonna hesitantly shoves herself over on the couch too, and I can't help but smile and she looks ready to cry in return.

But we're all done crying... so we let the rain fall... let it fall without us...

 _Pippy_

Excitedly, I follow the older fellow as he takes leave off the room. Droplet knows where I'm going, so I'm not all too worried, even if my poor dear Dino hasn't yet a clue. My tiny feet pitter and patter as I roam past his trailing lab coat and the paunchy one before him. It's so exciting, going on this adventure! Oh, how fun! Perhaps it isn't very far, and it's not so important that they must lock doors behind a basement, but they're going upstairs together with carts of tea and I must see what is coming along. Besides, the elder fellow invited me, more or less; perhaps because he knew I would not eat all of their cookies like my sweet lassie Lone did. But there are no such spots of problems with that! At least, I rather think so.

Their voices bubble over my head as I come with, so excited, so very excited.

"And you're letting them go, Doug? Your daughter and the boy? Dynal is not in any way against this? Are we sure this idea is friendly to what may be going on later?"

"I know, Rian, I know it's a bit of a stretch to the mind, but this is a good idea, it must be!"

"Did you forge—"

"Yes, but I also remembered! Very brave recovery, yes. And Vivian, as well, will live with it! She's proven to be preeeeetty overprotective too. So I'd say that's an even better sign than any that he should go, yes? And it's sweet..."

"Doug... it's not safe, especially at this time. You know what your friend—Nigel Scatterly himself—said of that Zongazonga fellow who's somehow related to the girl."

"Perhaps... but I also know that the girl had a boyfriend or something who helped her, and she helped him, and... at the same time, haven't you heard of Torn? I swear, everyone's heard of Torn. P.A. and Slate would _not_ shut up about him when they learned about him. And don't get me started on Tiffany. She kept saying she was going to cry. I get that it looks dangerous, really, but we need to have more faith in them. Dino's able to withstand two ancients within and without him. Jkonna's gone through those months... and then years beforehand, before she knew me. They're tough and sentimental..."

"What was the name of the boyfriend again, Doug?"

"Oh, right: Rupert. You've heard of him, haven't you, Rian? I always forget his last name, it's so darned long, but he's the one who's been with Dina this time. He's changed a lot with her... really, they all have come for the better, it seems."

"I can hardly believe it if Rupert has feelings for a girl! Feelings for someone indeed. But I wouldn't doubt it, after what you've shown me. I just worry, Doug, about what might come of those youngsters when their time comes and they meet... I worry, you know."

"Yes, I get that... but it won't come for some time yet. I've told you that the Caliosteo Islands and their neighbor... what was—oh, oh! Nomadistan. Yes, them, they're almost halfway around the world. This meeting won't be that soon... Just gotta believe in them, right?"

The two look back at me, smiling a bit. I try to smile, but it's rather hard when you've got a big, brown muzzle!

For some reason I'm drawn to one of the names of the people they tossed around... odd. I wonder.

Then out of nowhere the thunder goes screeching though my soul and I squeal and Doug comforts me and feeds me a single, sweet cookie.

"Just be careful with all of this, Pippy," he murmurs, not unkindly. "It'll be a lot for them to mull over..."

 **Yeah, Pippy got a POV... it comes into much more importance toward the very end of the story (oh my gosh two more chapters) but at the same time I just needed this scene xD even if Pippy himself only really showed up for a couple paragraphs...**

 **So here it is! Surprise Rosie chapter! X3**

 **And after this are two more... I think it's a little obvious by now what they are xD**


	39. Da: Mata

**Me: Second-to-last chapter! I never thought I'd get this far xD At first I was thinking this story would be around thirty-one chapters just like the prequels, but then I was thinking maybe it'll be thirty-five, and then I started, around chapter twenty-nine, to actually count all the things I had to do still in the story, and then I was like thirty-nine chapters it is, but then I made the Rosie one. So it's forty. XD**

 **Dina: Ye-Yes... -slow nodding-**

 **Rupert: Honestly, anything elongating the time frame for the certain moments in this chapter brings me even a handful more of peace.**

 **Dina: ;_; Ru-Ruuuperrrt...**

 **Rupert: -gently hugs her-**

 **Me: I feel so bad but like I can't just stop it from happening then everything is ruined**

 **Torn: -DAMMIT STARRY, YOU MOST TOTALLY COULD FUCKING STOP IT.-**

 **Me: TOO LATE TOO LAAAAATE -covers ears and waddles off-**

 **(if anyone's curious, the chapter name means "again" in Japanese. I... I just, like, Rupert's last name means "goodnight" and I felt like... randomly doing another thing ahahah TTwTT)**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 39: Mata

 _Dina_

Where the wind blows taut, for ages and ages, and where the sky meets ocean, swirling betwixt the gray areas of blue, and where snow and flakes frost over such a scenery, it is very far up. Bouts of fluffy air, like muffins, form and flop from my lips; the heat of whom I hold close to me is all that allows me to feel more than the very cusp of fingers and toes. For he is small, and he is held close to me, face pressed against me tight where he resonates a fiery heat that he and he alone can only resound so rightly. I am thankful for him... I am very thankful for him... even when... it is hard... to... remember...

 _Holy_ fuuuck _this is a nice view. Dammit. Why the hell did Rupert take so long to show us?_

Quivering in the chill, I giggle. _Oh, Torn... Perhaps because it is very cold here and he... um... he worries... Torn..._

 _Well, shit._ A snort. _He shouldn't need to worry when you've got me. Fucking Rupert just doesn't get it, y'know. We should ditch him._

 _To-Torn—!_

 _Joooooookiiiiiiiiing... though I wish I wasn't. Hah._

Yes, maybe my toes have thinly coated in sparkling bits of shards, and perhaps now I am looking more than a little bit blue, but it is pretty here, and it is safe here, safe holding Torn... and safe being held. Where my head nuzzles into the warmth of the boy beside me, wherever he goes, wherever he will be, that is where I stay, and that is where I... I belong. Because he makes me happy... just as I do for him. And because of this, no matter the scary things in life that may come along, I feel safe, and these burn in front of me beneath the great elation of warmth beating within the veins of my soul, connecting me to a world that led me to him. If such a world exists, then, at least in part, it must be some shape or form of a wonderful world indeed...

When he catches my gaze, he sees my own thoughts mirrored in his; only do I catch the sad, liquid fog of loss inside of me: the sad, liquid fog of amnesia from within, one that I know he sees and that I know must affect him, must addle in his heart in ways I wish did no harm to him. But still he smiles, ever so softly, when I glimpse toward him, and I whisper his name, and he grows even the slightest happier that I have not forgotten him. I never want to... I never want to forget you, Rupert; I wish these were words I could explain to you, words that could capture the turning, searing sensation of my body squeezed and cut and pulled away from one another, the slow, cold, cold fade of ice on the inside at the horrible, truly horrible thought of losing such an important piece of me... an important piece that I call "you."

I have already forgotten the name of my brother twice. He always reminds me, calm and steady, but it scares us, it scares both of us... I never thought this sort of pain was remotely possible. The parents of the boy I call my brother—Todd; Todd; Todd—hurt me in ways I rather would not think of, but that is nothing compared to the thoughts lurking in my head when I lose the warring sensation of sleep, nothing compared to this fear that when I look away I will lose the name of the one I hold oh, so dearly to me. De-Despite other odds... I seem to have not forgotten him... I still know him, I-I of course know him...

It makes me wonder where all of my memories go when I lose them. Is there a place they sit and collect dust? Does Zoazoa simply divulge in them? Are they... there? May-Maybe so. When Rupert softly reminds me, the severed thoughts recollect and tie off like a bow, so maybe if I am reminded, maybe if I stumble upon some piece of a family member: a picture, a face, a smile... maybe I will remember other things... things that are not a blankness as if they never existed in the first place... When I place my hands in his, and his lips trace mine, and I feel him and I know he is here with me, and he is close with me, that safety flickers like a fire in my soul. The safety protects me; and like Torn, I want to believe that this is a flame indelible, this is a flame that cannot be ever touched, ever torn, ever doused in any way... Because Rupert... Rupert is so... very real... very real and very here for me... very real...

His fingers press along my cheek; his eyes fulfill me. Quiet, he whispers, "Dina... I know you are in... pain at this time... so please tell me anything I can do for you, anything to help..." His voice is soft, and it is tender, and it is caring and warm and loving a-a-a-and everything I could ever even think of asking for. And he is here. He is here... "I care about you... I want to know whenever I can... make you smile."

"Ru-Rupert..." When I raise my hand, overlapping it upon his, he gently accepts it against him, gently covers it in a feeling brimming a smile through me... "Rupert... you make me very happy just being he-here with me... a-and you do so much for me... a-as it is, Rupert... Please do not worry... Please do... do not worry, Rupert..." and his smile again strengthens even the littlest of bits when he hears me. I am happy... very happy to have him...

Torn casually catcalls from the one hand I saved for him, one shoving him slightly much into my stomach, where his great pink eyes shimmer and his bluish body burns with a new sense of heat. _Daaaamn, it's like you guys only get more lovey each fucking daaayy! Shiiiiiiiiit!_ He spits the words and the heat rises to my throat and I laugh, and I laugh, and Rupert smiles when he sees that maybe it is hard at times but I am smiling, I am happy, happy, happy, very happy. Wisps of his silvery white hair frame his pale and elegantly formed face... his just-sloped n-nose and bright golden eyes, angular cheeks and yet soft features... But what I really... really lo-love would be the heart within him... the heart of his that takes time upon thoughts and words... that listens and cares... and, in the end... ne-never gave up...

If he ha-had... would I be where I am today? Would I ever had made it this... this far i-in life? It is a strange feeling to not know... to really not know... like a wave of vertigo, a wash of amnesia, only in another direction: I cannot shape this image of being without him, and with a deep pang in my heart, I would rather with not to.

And he means so mu-much to me... Rupert means... so much to me... so much... so very much...

 _Whoa, shi—shit! Shit! Dina, stop it! Please don't drop me, dammit! I don't wanna get in the fucking iiiiceeee! Baaaaaahhhh—_

 _A-Ah! I am sorry, Torn!_ Awkwardly I adjust him through my aching fingers and aching thoughts. Instinct ties me closer and closer to his side, and although Torn pitches and digresses to these motions, he ultimately shifts with his face shoved alongside my shoulder; he has yet to take me away... yet to take me away from him... Quietly he murmurs, head nestled beneath my ear, _Shut up, dammit... I know you... you fucking love him... and if he means so much to you, and if he's managed to make you so happy that when shit went down you were still okay, then... fuck. I-I have to live with him. Maybe I'm gonna be protective as hell, but I literally have to live with him, because of how much you mean to him... how much he means to you... da-dammit..._

A stealthy smirk follows. _Aw, is poor Torn crying? Must he, may I ask, find release in my manly bosom?_

 _Fuck you, Trikko. You're about as manly as Dina._

 _Admittedly I can't deny it. So would you like to find a place to cry in my manly—_

 _FUCK YOU._

 _There is nothing else to call it,_ he grunts, albeit happily, eyes tilted, a sardonic tone twisting betwixt his words. Trikko still rests by one side in one place, but by the way he calls, it feels as if he is much closer... Retaliation strikes with a flame and Torn yips as he tosses himself off toward the icy floor, his claws a blur of _scrr scrr scrr scrr_ into an oblivion of the nearby tricera. He cries: _SAVE ME, TRIKKIEEEEEE!_

These chipped bits of giggles I cannot stifle; hand cupped into my lips and they fall. Now to my further front, myself nuzzled closely to him, Rupert gently du-dusts me in ki-kisses. His hands cup me from where they hold; this warmth and this feeling consumes me. But it is a wonderful feeling, and it is a magical warmth, one limiting if not nulling the presses of winter from beyond. His fingers trace upon my cheek; his smile is small, his smile is soft, and sweet, and soothing... very soothing for my stuttering soul... his lips so softly pressed to mine...

Perhaps my face has come so red now, and my words he can hardly hear, but I cannot help that, I cannot help how hard it is for me to speak these feelings of my shy heart. Mumbling more into him than for him, I whisper, "I love you... Rupert..." And for ticking, trembling seconds, I pull myself closely to him as my heart fluctuates beneath my shaking fingers.

When the words return to me, tender as ever, "I love you... Dina..." my entity slowly releases from the hold I always forget just until I hear his own feelings whisper back. Here, he is so very close to me, and his coat is so very comforting upon me, and his presence cools this ache inside of me. By one side in one place, the snicker that bursts through dark, coal-like lips nearly shocks me through the chill of the snow encircling and encircling. Deep, bleeding red orbs pierce me from where she lies; Reyna only sinks further into her simper of a grimace, her smiling of a glower. When I try to look back, her face erases, remarkably blank. When the vivosaur of a brownie by her side squeakily chastises, the bruises of blushes that bloom upon her choke the laughter within.

 _I-I wasn't laughing, Aladee... Why would I laugh? That's stupid._

 _Re-ReyRey! Nooooo! Laughing is super duper duper gooooood! You gotta laugh, ReyRey! If you laugh, I'll be sooooo happy!_

He has yet to notice how quickly his squeals summon her bouts, bouts that she always swallows just before they brim. _I'm—afraid—not—Aladee_. Her glassy glare threatens otherwise in momentous bursts. These, too, the raja has yet to decipher. Tru-Truly, I am not sure what she may mean by her see-seemingly forced guise...

Golden orbs draw me toward him again. Quiet and soft, his breath brushes me, and his smile silences me, and he asks me, "Do you like it here?" His orbs glance toward me before pressing back again. "I did not wish to show you until later... because I was worried about your state, and then... er... there were difficult situations... But do you like it here?"

"Heehee..." Maybe he thinks otherwise... but I find Rupert to be cute. Elegant and yet soft and yet comforting and simple, bu-but he is s-so very, very cute... "Yes... it is nice here..." I giggle and search for his eyes again. They return rather quickly, that warmth I recognize so well touching me, holding me. "It reminds me, a little bit... of other places you have shown me. I-It makes me happy when you show me... things that ma-made you happy..." I sink off into my thoughts, into my pinking features.

A gentle tug. Warmth flushes upon my chin as he pulls my eyes up to level with his, as he murmurs, "No... no... You make me happy, Dina." His orbs drawn, tight and close, I struggle to nod. "Perhaps these little things offer small pockets... little things... but they are not you, and they never shall be you, for you are... you are..." His face grows tight, eyes shadowed and sparkling, painful and pleading. "Dina..." And when he holds me again, it grows just the slightest tighter.

He has such a gentle touch... and I love it... and then...

Ringing... ringing... ringing. A melody melting into the winds, upon the hills, through whining snowflakes and whispering leaves. Beyond and behind the tooth-like mountains about the island, there is no hearing of this sing, there is no reaching of it through the waves, to other islands. It is only here, and it calls for the people of the kingdom, it calls. Final call... final toll... final bell. And even though I perhaps understand what shall occur soon, the jolt seizing me from within begs otherwise: I can hardly move. Quivering, I pull myself into him again, and I wait as the sensation begins to dwindle. Rupert places a pale hand upon my head.

The final bell. Shaking of his head. He mumbles, "We knew it was coming soon. You do not mind going... You are sure? It is a tournament, Dina. I understand you do not particularly take to these any longer."

"I-I..." Spluttering, I try to nod. "Todd would like to. A-And so I would like to go... u-um, with you..."

"Of course." Soft whispers circle me as his hands cover mine, as his smile meets mine, just for a moment. "Of course... I wish to stay with you for as much as I possibly can." Even as I nod, my head aches, fuzzy... and I feel like... I feel like... N-No. Do not think of it, Dina; it will come to you... it will... we-well, it will come to you eventually... Rupert will be able to tell what you have forgotten and he wi-will help... he will help... A-And maybe I have not...

Seeing this in my eyes, he is gentle as he tugs me back toward the exit of the little tower so high in the palace, the one open to the elements and dotted in snowflakes, dotted in white fingerprints that trace upon every little thing, every little precious detail. The snow falls in little crunching sounds, these which follow until my vivosaurs trail and we leave the great brass door behind us. It is not until we have passed this behind us, and we have left our mark cold upon the knob, and we have come not one, not two, but five reverberating steps from the door, when Torn screeches.

 _HOLY SHIT, WHERE THE FUCK IS NYRA!_

Fear.

Fear... fear... fear... I curl into myself as I press my hands to my temple and I ask myself desperately what a... what a... what a "nyra" might possibly be, because fo-for the life of me I cannot recall a single thought of it. It... it... I... aaa-aaaahh... Ny-Nyra, what are you? What are you what are you what are you? Important? Important? Torn finds you important, my poor and sweet dimetro... if he finds you important, the-then surely I need to... need to... need to find what you may possibly be... Tears bite into the very corners of my eyes as I glance toward the one I love and I ask wordlessly, soundlessly, for help. Quickly his hands are in mine, threading through my fingers, close, gentle, protecting... and he dissipates... fear dissipates... at least slowly, but it dissipates... and I can only ask wh—who. Who is Nyra... who is... who is...

When the screech of a sneezing caw flits with a strange, green substance, the feelings eke from my eyes as I cover my face in my hands and I try not to sob. But it is hard... my heart leaps this way, and that way, in my chest, as his lips touch along my ear and he whispers, softly, patiently, slowly, and he helps me. He saves me. Because Nyra is the third vivosaur I ever had and bonded with me, and she—she—is green now, but she once was green and orange. She is birdlike, elegant, and Torn loves a specific asset of hers more than he should—although I am not completely sure what that part means. Nyra is sweet, and she loves to sing, and she only wishes for us all to be happy and work together as we can. She tries harder than she should have to, and her wings are soft. And she has saved me a great many times.

Memories, in aching droplets of loss, return. And the stream I have drawn only lengthens: because I have forgotten _her_ , and that is a horrible, horrible _friend_ to forget. Trembling, I fall again, and Rupert gently cups me, gently holds me, until he lifts me from my feet and carries me down the rest of the stairs. When I tell him, again and again, I am sorry, and I tell Nyra until the words blur, they try to comfort me in whispers of otherwise; it is not my fault, I never wanted this, but I can hardly hear them through throbbing torrents of taunts: _you forgooot, youuu forgoooot, youuuuu fooorgooooottt..._ And I can apologize until my mouth goes dry but I will never be forgiven. I cannot swallow through these sobs. It hurts to breathe... it hurts to breathe... I am sorry, I-I am sorry...

"Shh... Dina..." His whispers manage a dry escape across the wracking thoughts in my head, the ones that I think I hear, that I think are real, but as his gentle, worry-ridden face pulls into view, I know they are not: but he is. And I do not understand why it is the one so wonderful and kind to me is the one that is real, but that is now it is, and I try not to think of it otherwise. For any other way would be scary... I-I am very happy to have Rupert b-by my side now... When I rest against him, exhausted already by this excursion, his fingers cup my face and he softly touches his lips unto me. "Dina, you are in no fault. You never did this, you never wanted this... and yet, out of any one soul it could be, you were the one to be... given this." The way he whispers those last two words suggests a peace of discord. "I care for you... and I want you to be safe... even in these times... No. No... especially in these times do I need your safety palpable.

His words are gentle; his tone, precise. "It hurts me to see you like this, but I shall act in all ways that I can to ensure your happiness... until..." Drawn out, his eyes darken startlingly fast. He tries again: "Until I... until... you are..." I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my thoughts screaming in my head, the thoughts that are not mine, the heart that is not mine, the fear that is not—mine. Not mine... not mine... then that means Zoazoa must be... a-aahah... ha-hahah...

When I draw myself as close to him as I can come, and I ask him to not finish his sentence, he understands. When I tell him, very quietly, that my head hurts, his pupils follow the shaking in my body as I try to explain that it is not me, the screaming in my head is not me. The way he holds me when I cannot say anymore forces needles of ice in my eyes, forces a string of winter up my spine.

When I slowly tremble to my feet, my hand clinging desperately for the hand beside me, Trikko replaces the empty slot in my arm. He mumbles something about _Torn trying to score points with poor Nyra_ ; his slanted face suggests different reasons. Struggling, struggling, I tell myself to not forget him, not forget him ever: not the pastel pinwheel of blue and red, not the three horns upon his face, not his dull blue eyes that are naturally dull and naturally blue, like never-ending lakes of the horizon. And never, ever to forget his voice, gruff and deep and stout like his form of tricera body, or his logic, "the facts" he follows through life. Not to forget Trikko. I cannot let myself forget another one of them... I cannot bear to forget another of the four of them... of the three I have yet to forget...

Rupert, unwavering, has yet to leave my side; I renovate this feeling inside of me, this single one that I know, I know, is not hers but is mine alone. For I... I love Rupert... I love him with all of this heart, whether chunks of it belong to Zoazoa or it is whole; I love him with all of this... thi-this soul of mine... this being that may change and change on the outside but... but on the inside, shall always be... me. I love him... I love him—I love you, Rupert...

The final bell ringing in the back of my head, Rupert assists me down the very last step, the one that sometimes snags, as we head across creamy caramel carpet for the room with the chair in front of it. It is... it is down two flights, but then to a... to a ri-right, I think. A far right, but not the farthest, because the farthest right hallway has no doors with chairs in the front of. And further down, and further right... there is a supply closet with no door, somewhere far, far below from this plane in space: a supply closet that once had m-my blood on the floor... but that is okay... that does not matter. I nuzzle closely to the boy I hold so dear; his fingers, for the first time I have ever felt it, tighten about my hand.

"I am not letting go, Dina."

"Ru-Rupert... Rupert..." I fumble with what I need to tell him in turn. "I-I know that... ba-bad things are going to happen, so-soon, but... but from where I will be... however that will be... I-I want to... always b-be with you..."

And he gently levels himself with me and we halt in the midst of that first hallway.

And Torn screeches.

 _HOLY SHIT, REYNA, WE FORGOT REY—_

And I struggle to hold myself up again. Trikko winces in my arms, and he himself, with the flatter parts of his horned head, levels me closely to Rupert, keeps me near the boy with the soft, white hair and the red coat, the red-striped pants that meet with his elaborate, brown boots. All of this topped by the smallest of smiles as he strokes my cheek and tells me it is okay... it is okay... and I try to nod, Reyna, Reyna, who is Reyna, what is Reyna...

The other vivosaurs go scuttling backward, feeble and feverish, as Rupert whispers about Reyna, about a great biped of variously gray coloring, other than her golden bands and bright, red eyes. Bright red... only she is blind, and she is deaf, but because of these things she finds strength in her other senses and begrudgingly must rely on others. She can see through other vivosaur eyes, the ones she is bonded with, and she can hear through other vivosaur ears. And my eyes; and my ears. She is close to Aladee, but she is shy around him too. And she does not like being in the center of attention, would rather force everyone else in front of her. Slowly the image of the great krypto occupies my fuzzy mind, and when I try not to cry again, he is there, he is there... and later, so is Reyna... my dear Reyna... I am sorry, I am sorry... She merely shrugs and smirks. She does not call me _stupid_.

The final bell is tolling... the final bell is singing... singing in my head...

As Trikko files, wriggling, from my arms, and toward the krypto, insulting her for her lack of soothing words, and she insults him for his abundance of idiocy, and I giggle, just quietly, then we move on. Rupert tightens the fingers that hold me; sometimes he leads more than walks with me. I struggle to keep up, ashamed that sometimes I cannot, that he must wait for me as I try and try and try to continue. But it hurts. Many things hurt. And I know that this is not my head that hurts, but yet it is: it is not my mind but hers that cries, cries, cries; and it is her mind that muddles with mine, that procured my amnesia in the beginning and gently is erasing those whom I love now. She has yet to touch... t-to tou-touch... And then I tighten my hold on him.

Down the two flights of stairs, along the hallways until it is the one to the right, but not the farthest one on the right, and through this hallway, there is a brass knob hovering in front of the rickety, wooden chair, the one that seems to have been forgotten a long time ago and now merely sits there, purposeless. When Rupert knocks, they answer giddily, and as we make our way indoors Nyra flits into my grip and buries herself there warmly. I gently stroke her as she purrs in her sweet, Nyra way; her amethyst orbs meet mine in midair. Rupert guides me through the layers and layers of dresses until we reach my cheery foster brother and our dear friend beside him; her hair again is let out in large, curling ringlets of pink highlighted in gold. Their dresses match each other; at first they ask me if I would like to wear one as well, only as they lay a finger upon me the look Rupert generates threatens them enough to send them across the room.

"Ruuuupy's a meeaaaaaniiiieeeeeee!" wails Todd.

"Diga-dammit, Rupykiiiiiiiiiiiiinss!" cries Pauleen.

They are silly, and it brings me to little bursts of giggles, very little ones. Rupert places his other hand around me, gently pulling me close to him. I rest against him, stay close, as he murmurs, "Dina, how are you feeling?"

Worry... worry... H-He is worried for me. My head still, um, hurts... But... let me... let me try to think... thi-think about it... "Umm... I guess I... I am... i-it hurts, a little bit, but a little bit less, too..." It is hard to focus. "But... I think that e-everyone is here, whi-which means that I have not forgotten... which makes me... so ve-very happy... in the least..." Blushing, I mumble, "I am happy I have not forgotten y-y-you... I do not know what I would do if I... I-I had, e-e-even for a-a moment... U-Um..." How do I... "D-Do you feel okay..?"

He gently strokes me instead of answering for a time. His eyes are sad, but it is a happier sort of sad... a gentle sort of sad, one that only he would contain. He softly... softly kisses me... once, twice... "I will try my best, Dina... I will try my best for you. Always."

They begin toward us again, and I cannot help but smile. Their flouncy dresses bursting at the seams, flowery and encircling, filling their figures, they almost have to waddle in order to move. These dresses match in green and pink ribbons strung upon a more golden background of fabric, flowers of all different kinds sewn just in the right places on each one. Todd and Pauleen match perhaps in dress on the outside, but I-I know how easily it is for one of them to set off at the other... They are silly in that way, and they get along in such a way, and it makes me smile.

"Oh, man, Dina! We gotta tell you, that's right!" Todd hurriedly bumbles toward me; his curls of brown hair toss this way and that on his head, his warm, brown eyes welcoming and the freckles on his cheeks dimples of smiles. He does not touch me this time, much to the appeasement of Rupert. H-He is worried for me. "Pauleen and I totally decided, after the tournament and everything"—everything being a great void for... um, m-me—"we're gonna like make and sell dresses and stuff, and it's gonna be so great! And—And that is _so_ not even the best part; because Pauleen's totally for you and totally doesn't like boys, and I totally don't like her, we won't have to get romantic!"

Rupert narrows his eyes, just the slightest. "And this is the best part."

"Well, yeah, duuuuh. Romance is totally gross." It dawns on him. "OH. GOSH. WAIT. RUPY PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAAAAATT!" Wailing, he squeals: "I MEAN LIKE FOR MEEE! YOU AND DIN-DIN ARE SO LIKE ONE TRUE PAIRING I SWEAR." Rather satisfied with his statement, he searched the gaze o-of my dear Rupert for approval and nods to himself. "So... yeah. Ya proud of me, Dina? Are you proud of me?" His bouncing and squeaking nearly takes my breath away.

I squeak as his eyes narrow upon me. "U-Um! I-I-I mean... if you are ha-happy, then I-I am happy for you... Fo-For being ha-happy is good... and you des-deserve it ve-very much, yes? So I am ha-happy then that... that... you have found what you wou-would like to do..." F-For if it makes you happy, then I am happy for you..."

His smile warms my heart; he twirls about and yells the news at Pauleen who yells back that she heard the entire thing because Todd is so loud, and also nice one on insulting Rupert, to which my... my brother, my brother blushes readily and mumbles that it was not his fault.

"But it's gotta be _someone's_ fault, you stupid digadig!"

"Ye-Yeah, well, it it it... it was... it was..." His gaze goes rampant. "Hey, wait a second. Gren, d'you see where—"

 _HOLY SHIT, HOLy... holy shit... oh my gosh... oh my fuck... oh my fuck... oh my fuck... I... I... I..._ Torn goes rampant beneath the dresses, screeching and running and bashing amongst fabrics, nearly swerving into the stego Todd called to and then the smilo, the bright yellow smilo that Pauleen loves so dearly, the one who does not speak: Sivan, was it? Yes, I think so. Snorting, the mammal lifts to his fluffy white paws and assists Torn in his fruitless search until he goes bashing through the door and he screams.

 _TRRIIIIIIIIKKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

Faintly I recall that this is bad, this should be very bad, because I do not know a Trikko... I do not know a Trikko... **I don't know a Trikko, I've never known a Trikko, so this is normal! Stop it! Stop trying to pretend tha—**

A-A-Aahhh... De-Deep breaths... De-De-Deep breaths...

My head hurts... the voices are yelling at each other... they are calling... calling for me... but I am not one of them, am I? I do not think I am one of them... but the voice, _that_ voice, it is scary... it is scary... so very, very scary... and it is... it is not me, and yet it is. It wanted in; I know it wanted in; I could feel it throbbing, deep within the bed of my vocal chords; I could feel it breathing, squeezing in and out of my heart like it is not mine. And the thought chills me: what if _I_ am the one who does not belong? What if it... what if... But I cannot focus... on such little things right now...

When Rupert holds me, I focus on that... and I take in big, big breaths... and I remind myself, very quietly, everything that I know: Zoazoa is the daughter of the creature Zongazonga, the one that possessed Rupert and wanted... wanted me... but could not get in, perhaps because of her. Somehow she has been inside of me for a long, long time, longer than what should be possible, even before when I may have been born... But she is very real, inside of me... but this... this is... I am not... I a-am real... I am real...

"Rupert?"

"Dina..."

"A-Am I... Am I th-the real one? O-Out of all the... the voices inside of me... a-am I the real voice?"

"Of course you are... of course you are. For... you are my Dina... and I am... your Rupert."

There is no hesitation in these words. He pauses but this silence is not without the flow of thought and feeling, the burbling sensation of his being here, right here for me... knowing that he is by my side, ri-right here, a-and he is not going to leave. A-A-And... it i-is like a-a-as he said... _and I am your Rupert... your Rupert..._ So I hug him... and I ask him if it is okay that I forgot what a Trikko is, and he tells me it is okay, and he paints a picture in pastel crayon of a stout yet lovable tricera who thinks he is smarter than anyone but at the same time knows otherwise.

This guilt again trembles within me when I see him for myself. He tells me things, things about what he will do if I even think about apologizing, so I try not to... and it is okay... it is okay... if Trikko thinks it is okay, then... then it...

The final bell is ringing... the final toll is sounding... the final call is asking... asking for... asking for... no... no no...

It is something I cannot admit to, for my throat closes and my mouth goes dry at the thought of it, and even if none of these things were true my words would be fruitless to these stutters: but I know... I know it is coming, and I am afraid, but I know it is coming, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Strange feeling... but it is one I have experienced prior. That terrifying... premonition... the understanding that something scary, something bad, is coming, and knowing that you are not strong enough and never will be to measure against it... I-I wonder where Torn and the others will be, whence I fall into this... will they join... me..? W-We are con-connected through ou-our bond... I know this, but I am scared, and I do not want them to be in pain... Torn was with me when the Huricans, my foster parents, the reason Todd exists on this land... Torn was with me at that time... but that was still some form of reality. I do not know what to call... whe-where I am going... and I do not wish to think of it but it is coming... it is calling... calling... calling... someone is calling... calling... calling...

Rupert takes my hands in his, golden eyes blazing.

Todd and Pauleen, the cheery duo they are, toss hands over heads and hide their smiles. I stay close to him... because he makes me feel safe... e-even when it is scary... And it is here when he gently, again, scoops me up into his arms and holds me, carries me, so that I do not have to... weight myself. Only when I search into his burning gaze do I see that this is more for his own sake, not truly my own. Because he... cannot... bear knowing that... that... the voices are calling... and I cannot stay here... for there are unearthly things that will always be there...

What keeps me believing, and what must keep him believing, too, is the understanding that e-even when the bad things occur, whatever form they shall take, he will... always... be right here, ri-right in my heart... a-and I know I will be in his... so maybe somehow, somehow... there will be... perhaps not reason, but some form of sanctuary. When he asks if he can carry me to the doors of the tournament, I nod, happily. Before he turns back to lead me I quickly pull myself toward him, quickly leave that small mark of my lips upon hi-his... just for a moment. It is warm; it makes me happy; he makes me happy, happy, happy.

There are times when all I can think of, all I can wish for is to apologize to him for everything I have come to be. Be-Because it hurts him. It hurt him. Because of the creature living inside of me, I have hurt Rupert... and that is the last thing I could ever wish to do... but it is not a wound I can offer to heal, not a wound I can stop, for I am... I am... am... what was it... again... som-something important was going to happen, and it was very... I think it was a bad thing... something bad... something bad...

and thus I wonder... as the bell tolls somewhere far, far away...

Strangely, though I wrap my arms and thus my fingers threaded tight around him, I feel as if I am holding someone else as well. Doors _clink_ and _creak_ as they step back like guards for us to pass; a rickety chair, lone toward the edge, watches us, stares at and possibly through me, as I see it blur into nothingness along the horizon of brown carpeting. Brown, brown... brown was important, too. No, no, not here, not of this room, but brown alone... i-it was important. Why was it important... why was anything important... something was important... someone was important... the whispers in my ears that are not voices I can recognize tell me otherwise, but I do not think I believe them. I-I know... I know one thing... I know one single thing... per-perhaps it is not much, but I know one thing, and it is that the boy who is holding me—Rupert, Rupert, Rupert—he is and always will be important. Always...

And... and... It is a flash of blue: lightning crackling within the flowery pink eyes, a great streak of sapphire the scales that color her—no, I think it—he is a boy. He is a boy. His tongue flickers: forked. He hisses, understanding as well that there is something missing, and he ditches off from the group of people around us to go searching. His yells, I can see his yells through his outstretched, angry jaw, but I cannot hear them, for the whispers are too loud. I do not listen, but they are noise, and the noise cannot be stopped.

Maybe I hear them, but they are not real. What is it, then, that is... that... Rupert. Rupert... is very real... Through the throbbing in my head, I place myself beside him, nuzzling close to him, and his grip about me, hands along my legs and across my back, tightens. He feels so secure; only the power, the need to hold onto me is not like him, and so strangely it almost feels wrong. It is not in his... nature. He is upset... something is very wrong... and I know what is very wrong—I know, or at least... I once knew. It was very important to me, it once was... and it still is, I think, but the whispers are too loud. They tell me things that should be lies, because if I was not the real voice, Rupert would not be here fo-for me. And if I was not the real one, then...

Ah—the brown... the brown... the blue creature scampers along, sailed back swinging in the air, with a tiny brown muffin of a vivosaur by his side. He is important; I cannot remember him; ashamed and afraid, the words go dry on my lips. I cannot hear myself think; the words will not come. Whisper, whisper, whisper... and so they go. The brown one happily places himself upon my stomach, nuzzling himself there. I think Rupert can see the loss and the confusion inside of me, for I see his lips moving but the whispers drown him out. But—but he is still... he is still here. He—he is not gone, just because I cannot hear him. He is where the head of the brown vivosaur lies on top of: where my heart sits... he is... he is... he is...

My head hurts... it hurts...

Yellow. Weakened, battered, tossed in the wind and set off, only to fall... a dark and sad and lost, lost yellow. The pang in my chest tightens when I realize it is because of me, because he can tell. This palpable sensation runs along my spine, stuck thick and heavy in my throat, he knows I cannot hear him. He knows the world has gone fuzzy to my unseeing eyes... but I... but... Frantic, I struggle to move myself, struggle to tell him I am sorry. But words cannot come; these voices are so loud. But I... I cannot live with... the pain in his face... I have lain a knife to sic across it; I have... hurt him... a-and perhaps it will not end... but these voices... do not sound like him... a-and who I need is him, not these... not these voices... so maybe if I try... really, really hard... to peel them back... maybe I will not hear them. Maybe for a moment I will be safe.

The calling fades off. I can feel myself around me. The voices screech, they yell filthy things at me, they tell me this is an awful idea and I am an awful person and they will _kill_ me if I do this, but they are voices a-and they—do—not—ex—ist. They do not live a-and breathe like me; they are merely images of whispers, deadly whispers, trapped within me... and I need to... I need to hear him... even if I grow so weak and so weary that I lose myself even faster, h-he is in pain... in... in _pain_... I cannot handle the sight. My stomach is sick beneath the weight of a shifting, tittering Aladee.

He squeals, jumps up and down, paws upon the chest of the boy who holds me. His pottery eyes have gone instantly bright. Rupert, hearing him, although I cannot hear either of them, sparkles if not for a moment, and I wonder who has made him this happy, and guiltily, I wish it would be me. His cheeks gently pink at this time, and again my heart wrenches and because I know there is no way he can hear me, I wish and I wish with all of my heart that I may make him smile... that I may... hear...

Stars explode across my vision. Heavy, I rest myself by his shoulder, breathe deeply, in and out. The soft scent of his coat washes through me; it is much nicer than the stench of decay from within. Aladee loses his perch and flips off toward the carpet below that jostles from sight as Rupert moves and moves me alongside him; Nyra scuttles in to take him. Trikko boisterously tries a joke on Reyna, only knowing that her response will be negative enough to evoke his laughter. I can catch the tiniest snippets of words, the bits and pieces of phrases, of wonderful and illustrious voices: black stars of null eat into my sight but it is all so worth it, and the sharp needles in my eyes only further blur me.

When I hear him, I almost cannot believe it: the breath in my lungs that Aladee had not squashed withers away. Soft and sweet and kind and a little low but very, very gentle, winter just before spring, he murmurs from where his cheek presses against mine: "But Dina, you do make me happy. You bring forth the most joy I have ever felt before... please do not upset yourself... I was happy, when Aladee told me he could hear you beneath knots of fatal persiflage. He could hear you... but Dina, you burn... you burn... your head is burning with heat. Please do not overexert yourself... not even to give me another... moment..."

Perhaps in the way he is positioned, so close to me, his warmth upon me, I cannot see the feelings in his gaze or the curve of his lips; but still the gentle trickle of little droplets, _plip, plip,_ upon my shoulder, speak clearly. My eyesight has hindered, what is not black contains an alarming amount of red, but he heard me... and he hears me... a-and it made him happy... even if it only hurt me... I helped him, e-even if it was just a little bit.

From trembling lips, I whisper, "Ruuuupert..." once, and twice, and again, and again, until it hurts too much to speak.

And it makes him happy...

By the time we have come and reached the great, brass gates, those coated in carved roses of thorns that truly can draw blood, in some strange twist of fate, it is Reyna I try to hold in my hand while at the same time clinging tightly to Rupert. Reyna, sight finite to empty voids of black, her gaze a glazed sort of red. Ears never to hear a sound from her alone. She must rely—heavily—on the others, on all of us, to act. And she dislikes it but it is her life. And so she must go on alongside it. But I know she strongly feels for Aladee, she is at least happy about him. And so that is... good... that is good.

She sneers when I whisper his name, when I can muster the strength to, telling me loudly that if I keep wasting my energy I will be gone quickly. It is within her dull eyes, the ones that she can not control, whether they hold emotion or not, that I see things she will never notice, etches faintly of longing and strain that she has desperately hid behind layers and layers of contempt. The effects of the curmudgeon grow tiring; her paint peels off in places. And the blind krypto does not notice. O-Oh, but now she will because—

 _Stop thinking like that. You've seen nothing, Dina!_ And it dissolves beneath renovations of layers... and she pretends it is gone. Oh, Reyna...

Voice hardly sound, Rupert presses his lips close to me. I cannot stop the rush of heat upon me... n-nor do I want to. "I forbid you to consider partaking in the tournament. I will stay with you; it matters not to me if I participate... but I am not leaving you, and you are not to exert yourself even more." A pause: his warm breath strokes me within his cusp of a silence. "Joanie and Amurr could not care less, especially understanding... this condition you are in. They would never allow you to be locked away; but they truly care for you too... Dina..."

His fingers stroke me, softly—which I see just hardly through the edges of my vision—but I cannot feel it. He must be able to tell, but I know that he does not stop, only cups my cheek and pulls me close to him... My gaze flickers, only for a moment, upon the brass of the roses of the gate, and beyond and behind, through clouds of snowy mist, I can see the bell tower, and the figure just before it, poised to ring it for the beginning of the tournament...

I wonder what will happen... when it tolls... for the last time... and calls for everyone to join...

Quietly, hoarsely, through feelings that break me back and forth, I tell him that I love him. And he does not hesitate in return. There are vivosaurs on the ground, and the way my heart pounds tells me they are mine, but one of them... I am sure one of them is missing... I cannot remember but I recognize the pattern by now.. there is black, and brown, and green, and a pinwheel of red... and blue... but... one is missing... and there is no one to yell this time, to scatter off for them...

Abruptly his fingers seek and take for mine. He holds me close to him, fingers tight around me. Betwixt his streaming gaze and his bleeding face he whispers through storms of emotion, hoarsely, "Dina... Dina, I am scared... I am scared... I do not want to lose you... I never want to lose you... and I am scared." Silence. "No... that is a lie... I am not scared but terrified... I do not want to be away from you... and I cannot stand the thought of it, and I cannot bear to understand why this must be. I am scared, Dina." Never before have I seen him so wrought in feelings: never have I seen so much pain splattered across the face of a being, not even when the past occurred, and bad things happened in a basement, and a blue—then red—face swims across my gaze that I cannot place... His pain is infinite. It takes my breath away; my heart sinks.

"Ru-Rupert... Rupert... I-I..." Hiccups dot through my words. I bite my lip. Someone is missing... "I cannot... b-be torn from you... bu-but I... I do not want... I do not... I-I... I do not..." No... no... the words fail me. I am afraid, ice in my soul, for a moment that the time has come and gone: but truly there are no words to describe this pain. I feel it too... o-of course I feel it.

And I realize, then, that I cannot tell him how much I love him... for words fail me. They do not say enough, and they cannot leave enough, when I will be gone... and we do not know much else, but that I will be gone, gone, gone. His golden orbs hold my amethyst, and his fingers weave tight around me, and he holds me, forehead pressed against mine, kisses soft and relentless, he holds me. And I hold him... I hold onto him... and my grip is tighter than his... but the bell is ringing, the bell is tolling, calling, calling, calling...

But I am not ready... But I never want to leave... But I cannot bear to let go... but the bell is ringing. And the whispers return, hisses and jeers, and the voices stick up in my throat, and my heart cries as it knows whom it shall soon be torn away from, and I sink into his hold, as he gently, gently strokes me... as I tell him I am not ready and he tells me that he knows... he knows...

He tells me he will always be here, as he addresses the heart he once kissed, that he tells me is so kind. I mumble through his shoulder that I will try my best.

He kisses me... and he kisses me... and I cling to him and whisper that I love him... that I do not want to go...

And quietly... quietly... through the ringing of the bell, the heavenly melody singing of angels...

"I will be waiting for your return."

Weakening... weakening... I feel my body trembling before me as I lose it... as I lose myself somewhere deep and dark... and dangerous, far, far away... where at first my vision goes brilliant blue and there is a flame and a yell but later I can feel and I know I am losing... and I am going away... that I cannot feel much of anything... and I know I am sinking but then I do not... I do not know anything... anything...

quickly I plea, Zoazoa, take care of my love...

until finally, there is nothing.

Nothing.

 **I'm not going to talk about how long I took writing this. Nobody knows how much I was stopping and sort of ish crying and feeling horrible and oh my gosh don't do this to me life why I gotta wahhhhhh...**

 **-goes off somewhere lonely-**

 **Torn: -Shit, I think Dina forgot about me.-**

 **Trikko: -No, no, I don't know what you're saying.-**

 **Torn: -DAMMIT TRIKKO, NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR FUCKING SARCASM.-**

 **Trikko: -Torn, we're connected to Dina. I'm sure in some way we'll see her.-**

 **Torn: -STOP WITH THE SARCASM, YOU FUCKING BITCH-**

 **Trikko: -I agree that I would be an awful piece of scum if I was being sarcastic.-**

 **Torn: -...- needs a moment -FUCK?-**

 **Trikko: -I believe, at least.-**

 **Torn: -DAMMIT THE FACT WEIRDO BELIEVES NOW WHAT-**

 **Aladee: -WE GOTTA GIVE HOPE FOR WHAT COMES NEXT, TORNY!-**

 **Reyna: -I don't know about that.-**

 **Nyra: -No, no, I think we should... I think we stand a chance...-**

 **Me: okay that's more than enough. At least now I feel a little better about myself.**


	40. Do: The Man Pants Bail Forever

**Me: And there it was.**

 **Jkonna: …and there it wasn't. -covers face-**

 **Me: Even the blind know it's coming.**

 **Reyna: -Sorry, Jkonna.-**

 **Jkonna: BUT WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF I -LIKE- HAVING A REALLY LONG STORY AND DIGA-DON'T WANNA STOP?**

 **Me: things change**

 **Dino: times pass**

 **Reyna: -Insightful people go blind.-**

 **Dino: dude**

 **Jkonna: jeeeeeez, way to ruin the mood**

 **Reyna: -You're very welcome.-**

 **Me: In all seriousness, here it is! Finally! The last chapter to The Stone Fossil Fighter...**

The Stone Fossil Fighter

Chapter 40: The Man Pants Bail Forever

 _Dino_

Maybe it's all just in my head, but I swear the clouds have never looked so bright before. Yeah, maybe they're thick and gray like hides hung in the sky, and maybe they're bulging and ready to tear: but I dunno, it's just this feeling in my chest that's telling me otherwise. It's like... it's just a good day, it's just one of those days. And it's a good one. No matter how dreary the world tries to tell me it is: turd, I don't see it. The wind's roiling between my fingers, tossing waves of my hair. The air smells fresh like it's gonna rain any second now, and it's just... it's open. It's a sort of openness, filling and filling illustrious blue skies now curtained in gray, but it's... it's a good gray. It just is.

Lone, who's by far the best vivosaur out there, happily squeaks in favor of me. She gets me, y'know? She'll agree with me, even when my ideas are really stupid... but then again, wouldn't... any of them? Droplet's gone through enough trauma to last a good lifetime; don't get me started on Pippy. I'm not sure why Harei's okay with living with us, and I'd rather not question the likes of the two ancients somewhere around here. Jkonna, too.

Jkonna's important.

She's peeking from behind me, pretending I'm not as tall as I am, pretending she can see and smell the storm just as vividly as me. Her breath's along my shoulder; but I don't move, cuz yeah, I'm that kinda guy. But she doesn't comment on it; just stays this respectful sort of quiet as we peek out the glass in the door of the Fossil Center, toward what might be destiny, but also might not be.

We're inside.

Lone slams against me from her side and I try to slam back but she's too small, too fast, and I plummet.

 _Gaaahh! Lonie, you big bully!_

 _HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA._

 _Well I say, digadig, beggars can't be choosers and all that._

Casually my best friend steps over me so that she can look at the clouds I've been spewing over. Her face quickly rips open in this gooey, brown mess of disgust. "You wanna go outside in _that_?" Tittering. Her nose, like, literally flares. Her baby nose snub is flaring at me. "Diiiiiino, what _are_ you, digadiiiig? Ewww!"

Smirking, I try to stand. Knees catch in purple fluff and I go down again. "I'm a guy! Isn't that what guys do or something?" Get dirty and all that. Well, geez, Droplet wants to go outside. She's... I dunno. A weirdo. But if Droplet's on my side, and Lone has yet to leave me: I mean, they're just clouds!

"I thought you were better than thaaaaatt!" She goes on groaning and staring at the great lint balls of the atmosphere with her teardrops of eyes withering and narrowing each time she looks back at me. "I mean, come on, Dino!"

And then we both start laughing.

It just kind of bursts out of nowhere, like those clouds showing overnight. Thick and deep and a little, a tiny bit painful in my chest. But it's a good feeling... y'know? It's just one of those things, like gray skies full of hope when they threaten to unleash some uncool amount of rain onto the earth and submerge us all in their icy tears. But maybe it won't cry, maybe not today. Maybe the clouds will do their little cloud thing where they bounce around like thoughts, maybe literally whiten at points, and maybe they'll leave. Maybe it won't have to rain today. But I dunno, it sure smells like it. Deciding that the glass I fogged up before falling isn't enough, Jkonna lands herself on top of me, and, using my guts as a cushion, sits and peers through another piece of window.

"Heeeyyy," I try my best not to splutter, or inhale too deeply or anything. "Maybe the door"—spluttering—"shouldn't be sat in front of, am I right or"—spluttering—"am I riiiiight?" And when I try to raise my head and catch a glance at her, some clay-colored hand smushes my face into the purple carpet again. The suffocating purple carpet made of such thick fur that when I narrow my eyes into slits it's like I'm in a grape jungle. Deep and dark and dangerous... all the foreboding—"OW!"

She just grumbles. "It's not my fault that your stomach's so sharp, digadig." I try to raise my head again and quickly find her thumb imprinted upon my forehead. "Now be a good boy and stay. I'm busy staring out the glass on the diga-door, and see, Dino, it's a very important job. We could be flooding any second now." When she shuts up, I try to wince as loudly as possible, so maybe she'll have some sympathy. It doesn't work. I didn't think it'd get me very far.

Quietly, I mumble, "You don't want me to go outside, Jkonna."

"No, I diga-don't, Dino; again, like, it's about to start pouring," she hisses back.

"But... but Dina. We were gonna go."

"Dino."

"I don't wanna wait."

"Dino, too much water all in one place isn't good for you. Diga, you said you were gonna take care of me. I'm gonna diga-drown the second we step out there."

"Five out of five Dinos would agree that even if it did start raining, Jkonna will still be protec—"

"Uh huh? How?"

"CUZ I AM AN UMBRELLA."

That throws her off guard: so off guard that she inches from my stomach and I manage a sitting position before she tosses herself at me again. Great streamers of fiery hair dangle in between land and sky, bits of sun that aren't doused in gray quickly sparkling over her. She's got icy blue eyes, but it's a gentler icy, not a scary icicle of any kind; little slashes of the same color touch under her cheeks like gashes. Her digadig markings. And then mine are gray, under my cheeks, too, like my eyes. We match... and I think that's really cool.

Sitting cross-legged, my tail erect and twirling, Jkonna's eyes flicking for it once or twice, we stare out the window on the doors together. It's kind of a bad place to sit, since any time now someone's gonna come rushing in, maybe when the storm hits and maybe a little after, drenched and shivering and thankful. It's a pretty bad place to sit. I'm just waiting for Wendy to have to scoot around us. And, see, she won't; she'll try her hardest to kick one of us out of the way, won't be strong enough, and then yell. A lot. But Wendy doesn't stop us from sitting here: nothing does, no one does. Diggins is around here somewhere, quietly humming to himself while he fills out some form of paperwork, stuff that might have to do with the place he said Dina's at.

By my side, but beyond skittish Lone, a great, brown boulder lies. He turns his shining purple eyes towards me, for a moment, before red explodes across his cheeks and he looks away again. Smirking, Jkonna turns back too, mumbles, _Pippy, my gosh, diga-don't be embarrassed if you're lonely. Yeah, it's cute... but seriously._

His cheeks puff out. _I-I am trying to be serious, la-lassie! I-I am!_ Precious is spelled pii-ai-pii-pii-wye. _Anything you want me to promise on, I-I can! Tea and crumpets, o-or jolly old beans, or... or... err, biscuits! Any of these things! O-Or any good bloke you'd like me to—I-I'm trrryyyyyiiiiiinggg!_ For a moment there, I'm not sure either of us can get what he's trying to say.

Jkonna pokes at my shoulder. I sort of snort and she pokes it again. _Uhhhh, Pippy, just be yourself or whatever. Don't get so worked up._ Although he's probably gonna get worked up either way, so everything I said is turd. Basically.

 _I'll... try..?_

So when we shrug, he just flushes his face again and looks off. When Jkonna pokes me again, she mumbles that it's cute how Pippy keeps huffing and huffing like that. And it is kinda cute. And I'm very thankful for he and Lone... and everyone, really. Oh my gosh, I don't think I have the breath in my lungs to say all the names of all the people that helped me get to where I am now. And the crazy thought is, I'm not even done. There's gonna be more before we find her again. There's gonna be the people she's met, and the people who've helped her, and may I cross my fingers as tightly as possible and beg that she's met some form of a Jkonna for her. But even that's not everyone, because there's people between the oceans that I'll have to pass to see her again.

But in the end, it'll all be worth it. I'm not sure how we'll get that far, but we will, and once it's all over, I'll be... very thankful... and very happy. I think. I mean, Diggins found what he found, but there's always the wonderful chance that the Dina we found somehow isn't _our_ Dina and... yeah, no, I don't wanna think about it. There's always the very high chance it is her like that one friend of Diggins said and I should stop contradicting myself.

The strangest smirk draws itself in Lone's beak when I try to tell myself this.

"Um..." We're both just sitting and staring... through the glass... at the world... just sitting here and watching... "Jkonna..." So then, how do I... how do I... "It might rain, but... that doesn't matter to me. I-I get that it might matter to you, but after Diggins got all that paperwork cleared for her island and junk... tried to get in contact with those people... and Dad and everyone were alerted, all that... I mean, I wanna... I wanna..."

Her eyes dip for the carpet, grow lost in it. "I get what you mean..." Her fingers play at the tangles, a little restless, a little hard to think. "I diga-do... I diga-do... It's just, it's rainy, and if we can just go later..." A sigh. "But I-I know what you mean."

"So we're going."

"Sh-Shut up, gimme a minute."

I can't help but giggle, I'm sorry. Gosh, I must look like such a kid right now. But that's okay. I almost feel like one right now, deep inside of me. My heart can't stop jumping... so it's almost like I'm gonna have bruises... all over me now. That's a kinda weird way to think of it, but I know I feel something nervous and thick and heavy and bouncing and bouncing and bouncing. And if she's okay with us going, I really wanna leave soon. We can... we can...

Lone chirrups loud and clear beside me. She prances, and she dances, just by herself on the purple floor. Pippy gives one of those cute Pippy laughs, his accent flowing, when he sees her. Droplet summons herself and shakes her glossy head, eyes glowing of mirth, an icy sort of mirth, not unlike...

And Harei's hiding out somewhere nearby. She's all nervous and twitchy like I thought she'd be, and she scrambles up close to me while Jkonna raises herself and smirks. Golden scales and deep, dark eyes come closer as her tiny ourano bill quivers just in front of my face. And finally she whispers, this being the fourth or fifth time she's asked: _You really think so-someone a-a-as cool as her wi-will like me? E-E-Even a little? Re-Really? You're sure you're sure?_ And like Pippy, her face grows hot where it quivers.

 _Oh my gosh, Harei,_ I chuckle, just—just a little bit, but I don't tell her how many times it's been. _Yes, I do think that Dina will like you. She'll like you a whole lot._ Struggling, I narrow my eyes and offer my own smirk. Jkonna rolls her eyes behind Harei. _Man, I trust she has some cool vivosaurs! That'd be super lame if she didn't have any. I wonder if any of them'll be like me... I wonder if they'll get who I am from Dina..._

It's hard not to voice but I wonder if she's there... or if she's whole. The grumbling of old men in the back of my head suggests otherwise, as it has been for the last three days that we've been trying to prepare, but that doesn't mean I'm not going, and each of them know that very well. They've been stuck with me as it is. I think they're funny, I dunno. They keep saying funny turd. But they don't mean to be funny: this of course only makes them funnier. When she asks, I tell her that it's not a problem she didn't take one of them for me. She told me, like everyone else, that apparently my head made a scary noise when I took them up, but, I mean... I'm okay, as far as I can tell. They sure hate how much I make fun of them, but we're okay, as far as we can tell.

They're not inside of me. They don't want to be inside of me. I don't want any of them inside of me. Because I know one of them was inside of _her_ and that's the whole reason I'm where I am on this planet in the first place. And now we'll stop that. We'll find her and... and we'll help her. If we can. Oh gosh, she better have cool vivosaurs... so cool that they put mine to shame...

Droplet smiles quietly, knowingly.

She doesn't hug me this time around.

Pippy gives her the queerest look I think I'll ever see on his face, but she just laughs at him, laughs it off. Bright amethyst eyes can't quite see what she's getting at, but some small trickle of understanding manages to wash away any queer Pippy doubt he might've had. From my side and above, Jkonna tries to pat at my head, but I swerve back, and if it wasn't for her other hand smacking against my forehead and nearly forcing me over, I'm sure she would've been back where she started. Snorting, she mumbles, "I'll go find diga-Diggins. I'd appreciate it if you diga-don't break anything while I'm gone." And she leans closer for just a moment. "Especially Wendy."

"BUT!"

"Diiiinoooooo!"

"BUT IT'S FUN!"

Before I can even try to say anything else she darts off. Not that I'm surprised. I wasn't gonna do anything—I think—anyways. But she got so quiet just before that. She got so solemn, face a lump of shadowy clay, her square jaw all turned against herself. She doesn't wanna go. It's gotta be more than the rain by now. It's... not that she doesn't wanna go with me, but: oh, she's probably worried. A little bit. I think that a piece of Jkonna's gonna always be looking out for others now. It's just... what's happened, how she's changed, or like a piece of that change. But it's not a bad worry, not an unhealthy worry that pulls down her heart until she's sagging to the ground and she thinks she's trying to help but she's just as broken. Funny thought.

I glance out the window door piece again, staring through my reflection. Bright orange face. The tossing of winds can be heard like a whine over Harei's steady trembling by my side. She's plopped herself down, taken the liberty to keep Jkonna's spot warm, Lone squeaky on her other side, and still she shakes. Great and dark, liquid eyes trickle from spot to spot, her sticky sight trapped over everything and yet nothing. I kinda shuffle against her, try to make her focus; for a moment, I swear she's looking at me. Then with a blush she glances away. She can't even stake a look onto the glowing Harei in front of her, the one in the storm and the one in the glass. All the same. So I shuffle against her again and she squeaks out and I realize I sat on her tail.

 _Oh! Gosh! Harei, I'm sorry! I know it hurts to have your tail sat on! I'm so so so sorryyyyyyy—_

 _Di-Diii-DiiIIINO YOU'RE S-S-STILL ON IT I'M SORRY I'M SORRY OWWWIIII—_

 _OH GOSH!_ I plummet to the side and we both stop screaming at each other. That cyan-eyed look Lone is giving me makes me feel like the worst person in the entire world. Between these awkward, deep breaths, pinpricks of tears shrouding my vision further, I try to glance back at her and apologize. She just swivels her head yet again, mumbling little words full of nothing.

So I try to clear my throat. _Uh-hum... Harei?_ Her head twitches when that angular, billed face glimpses back toward me. Her golden scales shiver, even without the wind pulling into the chamber. It howls, some freakish beast, maybe Iggy's mom, I don't know. I try to speak a little louder so that she can't hear it anymore. _Yooouu haapppen to smeellll... liiiiiiiike..._ Okay now. _Rosebuds._

 _YEEE-EEEEEEEEP!_

I'm not sure if I helped all that much, but the glowy thingy in my chest that's stuck together with glitter glue tells me I more than likely did good. Harei's fumbling paws shell over her face and she winces and winces and teeters on by herself, but I think I got the point over and eventually she manages to relax. And I think that's a very good thing. A very good thing...

In my head, too selfish or too shy to come very far out of it, the grumbles of the ancients beside me deepen. Fissures of whispers, wracked powerful to-the-bone by age, creak and crack inside. Thomas snorts from my complimenting of Harei, calling it whatever the heck "friiv-oll-lus" means, which I refuse to acknowledge. Iggy just sorta lumbers off. He's gotten soft after living in my head for however long it's been by now. Yeah, there was that one part when he thought it'd be a good idea to get Thomas with us, and yeah, a lot of very bad things happened: but in the end he's just as much of a marshmallow as he was before. I've turned a spirit of old from their freaky blood-lust tradition thingamajigs into a marshmallow: just this lukewarm marshmallow. Maybe Thomas will get just as toasty later on. I dunno. That's a creepy thought.

She calls them scary, she breathes into these thoughts of how scary they are, she sleeps knowing they're scary, she dreams of their scariness: they're gonna be one of few reasons we make it to _her_ as soon as possible. Well, eleven, if I count her vivosaurs, and my vivosaurs, all together. But they have to be some of the biggest reasons because they're ancients, and the name alone sends fear into the hearts of these people. Some people have managed to befriend them—I'm trying to be modest, but whatever, call me living proof... or not modest at all.

And it's a useless thought, but I can't help but wondering what kinda vivosaurs Dina has. Are any of them pompous—or self-righteous? Do... do they make jokes about her friends and screech as loudly as humanly possible? Which—isn't painful. Do they try to keep everyone together? Are any of them plain adorable and hard to look away from? Is... is one of them this sarcastic piece of water... who cheered the two of us, all of us, on until the end? Is one of them just sarcastic? It kills me, inside and out, thinking and wondering these sorts of things, because there's no way to truly know until I'm there. But they're the thoughts that taint me and keep me needing and needing to go, just so I can know. Just so I can see them... so I can protect her because either way she might need all the protection in the world right now.

Diggins couldn't find out much from the attendance rosters, but he did fish a couple things: there was something about who she came with, and some other thing about this "relative" of hers: and there was one about her health. And the one about her health said her health wasn't doing all that great. And we're not sure what that translates to, but... but I just need to see her. It doesn't matter if the tears of the storm toss me into some emotional mess, or if they screech at me to stay, stay, stay... My... my friends curl themselves close to me, so that I hear their playful words over the wind.

Footsteps. Low and slow, steady and thoughtful. And sometimes they stop. And they're so heavy—the exact opposite of... so who the heck is that? I try to turn myself around, but it's kinda hard with two huge stub paws, brown like cookies, wrapped around your waist. I love you and all, Pippy, but... who is... who is... I try to yank myself away and fall short yet again. Something tells me I'm not gonna escape this grip of his, no matter how bad my curiosity gets.

Scaly tail. I think it's—out of my sight again. Dang it... uh... "DAAAAAAAA—"

"You insolent boy, can you not silence yourself when in the midst of a hallway and be respectful to those within it?"

"Oh. Not Dad. Hi Raptin."

I'm sure he just gave me a curt nod somewhere nearby. "Hello, Dino."

He gets all awkward and quiet.

"Uhhhhh, what are you doing here? I know Dad said he and you would show up for something later on, since I'm leaving and all, and you guys gotta stay and track her spot, and you said that you were gonna talk with Diggins or whatever, and... and... I think that was it before you'd show up. So, like, whyyy are you here?"

The footsteps take their slow, slow drawl while he paces around me in the weirdest pace I've ever heard. Aw, why so shy, Raptin?

"It is nothing for you to worry."

"I diddly-darn bet it is."

"Dino, what does that word even mean?"

"I dunno." He doesn't laugh, mostly because he's Raptin and he's bad at laughing on the spot. Yeah, he's one of those people. Especially after...

"I am here for nothing that will concern you."

Okay, that tone in his voice is just _giving it away_ : he's _shy_ but there's _something_ he's gonna _say to me_. And I'm not sure at all how someone shy like him's gonna eke it away and tell me, since he's gotten so tense now, but I guess if I pester him more maybe he'll give it away. Well, this is a fun turn of events. So the question is what to do... oh wait. That's not even a question. There's only one thing I _can_ do. "Heeey Looooooooone?"

Her head goes erect. Her thick, cyan beak hefted in the air, I wonder if she can _smell_ him. Which makes me wonder what his smell is and wish I had a beak like hers so I knew, but I've got an angular nose that isn't that small but doesn't do a whole lot as it is. Quietly I ask her what he smells like and she whispers back that he smells like me but better. Which scares me. A lot.

Apparently Raptin hears this too, cuz for the first time in forever, he stumbles in his stroll. Mighty Raptin isn't so mighty as he thinks he is. Finally I catch my first glimpse of his face: a half-moon shadow of mingling blues, his golden orbs flared at me and thick, dark spines of hair trampled over his face. Then he ducks and spins out of view again. So I come to Lone again, because I figure I have no other option. "Hey Lone, I'd sure love it if you—"

 _RAPTY? RAPTY? RAPTY? RAPTY?_

"Yeah, that.  
Go get 'im, or whatever."

And she springs off after him, spinning and twirling and squealing, squealing, squealing so much that Pippy's vise grip on me loosens. My seismo friend otherwise doesn't offer much comfort; Droplet just laughs and so does Harei, only her giggles are low enough to be camouflaged by the other's great heaves. Waves on the shoreline. There's water in the sky, and as I stare past these black, cottony clouds, I know it's coming down when we step outside. We'll be drenched, we'll be cold, and the water'll trickle to our feet: but it'll be worth it when Dina and I meet. And Jkonna.

The angry cry of an angry dinaurian calls me out of my grayish oblivion and I glance back over my shoulder. Maybe I should tell Lone to chill. Nah, I think not. Raptin manages to wrestle her away from... I'm not even sure what she's going for this time. I guess anything she can manage. He has to kick his pointy feet and balance back his tail cuz if he's not careful she'll get him to no avail. And that'd be funny, I'd love to watch such a thing, until—"Silence! Foolish nasaur, release yourself and I suppose I must speak!" Aw, fine, be that way.

Only when I manage to convince Lone to retreat does Raptin even lower his musty, old, gold eyes back for me. "Sometimes you are such a nuisance, Dino." But he doesn't stop talking, and now I'm excited. "Your father—that... that is, King Dynal—thought it best if you and that... friend of yours... did not go alone." He avoids Jkonna's name and practically spits around even the thought of it. Aw, poor guy. "It would be of ill thought if... the both of you were injured in some way. Yes, King Dynal thought it wise to find and allow you to reclaim your dinaurian necklace, now that this time has come, but he would much prefer if another was alongside you. Even if..." Oop, his teeth gritted; this is gonna be good. "E-ven if Jkonna"—he winces at the name and spits around "Ji-haw-nah" like it's a curse—"is al-lowed to... use the necklace your sister shall reclaim, is she found."

Well that wasn't so bad. Gosh, Raptin.

"So he decided that I should join your group." My gosh, Raptin, was it really that hard for you? Aw, poor guy.

Somehow I get the feeling that Raptin wanted to come with us and was too much of a wimp to outright ask, so Dad made the story for him as some sorta cover. Aw, poor, poor Raptin...

When I glance into the glass, I see someone else in me. It makes me smile a little bit more as I glimpse back toward him, and murmur, "Well, Raptin, I guess I can't deny something if the Dad himself said it, can I?" He starts to get a soft look in his gaze but I can't help myself and blurt, "Unless I should go check with him just to make sure?"

"Tha-That is not required!" He's not yelling out of anger to try and overcome me. Wow, I feel bad now.

"I...er. Sorry, Raptin. I was joking."

He tosses me the queerest look, just like Pippy. "You apologize now. And you have begun to... perhaps not in this moment, but much more often than I thought you ever would."

"Er. Thanks."

"Apologies."

"It's... fine? Haaaaaaah..."

Lone smirks in betwixt our little talks.

And so it goes on... and so he'll join us. I'm kinda really excited. Really excited—like a kid... I guess Raptin'll never know, cuz he's a shy turd, probably won't believe me if I said so, but I'm... happy he's coming with us, then. Unlike Jkonna, and unlike everyone else, when he glances to the glass, and he registers all the rain, he just smiles, this tiny little Raptin smile that's so small he could hide it that quickly, and it would melt away. I wonder how many times Duna has seen that smile...

Finally I rise. And when I rise, I think about Jkonna, and how much we hug, so I wonder, then, if I should hug Raptin. But I get this feeling in my chest that Raptin and hugs don't mix very well, so I don't. Still, I thought. I considered it. I-I care about him. He-He's a pretty cool dude. There's nothing wrong with that, oh my gosh. Lone was trying to bite his foot, gimme a break.

As I stand there, and Raptin awkwardly stands beside me, and my vivosaurs trounce around at our feet, one of the doors farther off makes that tiny _clik_ noise and people spill from its chambers. My heart pumps as I recognize the three figures, squealing in my chest because it knows exactly what's about to happen. Finally, finally, after all my time being stupid, and all those moments where we didn't really know what was gonna happen to me, and all the thoughts in my head drained from scary to less scary to some form of normal: it's come. When I think about it, no, I don't know if any of us were really sure we'd finally get to this part in life. I dunno if I was particularly thinking about Dina all that much when I was in that yuck state—which is _so_ stupid because _she's_ the one with all the crazy stuff happening to her.

The fancy papers Diggins found told him that she wasn't okay. Yeah, maybe I wasn't okay, but I wasn't unstable. I didn't fall asleep at night only to be contorted by these crazy nightmares that they put under "uncharted" because they didn't even know what to call it. I never worried about... about... "amnesia."

But she has. Somehow I feel like, somewhere inside of me, I... I guess I knew it. I don't know. Call it Twinstinct. Or not. But it doesn't change that I got into a pretty bad place at the wrong time, that she's in a really bad place and I should've... I could've been there by now. But—I don't have that. What matters is I'm going to leave soon. And then it'll... I'll... it'll be better. It said she had some sorta relative on the sheet; I think she was adopted. That's someone... right? That's someone. That's someone... of course it is. She's not... not alone... I don't think she's alone. And her vivosaurs better be cooler than mine.

Jkonna's eyes give away bits and pieces of words floating in her head. I wonder if she's thinking of these things, too, because she knows as well as I do what's going on. Maybe that's why she gave in so easily. Her ropes of billowing, fiery hair toss around and behind her, tangling down her body until they reach near her toes. In the back she's dragging. People have asked and she won't let anyone cut it. Dad's a little soft-spoken behind her; Diggins nods once or twice, glasses bobbling off his nose, turquoise spines of hair jiggling in the air like waves off the ocean. His turquoise eyes sit calmly in his head, to his credit. Dad's flash an ominous mixture of wishing and loss, swirling around and around in his purple irises. My best friend scoots in front of them, offers the scaly friend by my side around two seconds of her stare, and then returns back toward me.

"So we're gonna diga-do this..." Mumbling. I don't blame her; we're probably both as shaky as that voice of hers is. Suddenly any appetite I've had before now withers. "Y'know it'll be, er... maybe not diga-dangerous, but even with all that everyone's diga-done for us... well... I mean: halfway across the world, diga. Halfway across the world." Even when she whispers it, those icy eyes of her hold through. They don't melt, don't crack underneath what we know is coming.

"Even with everything that every single diga-darn person has come through with, I mean, we'll be as alone out there like they diga-did nothing. They have friends, and there's coordinates and pictures and whatever. And for all we know, everyone's gonna think we're even weirder when they see you and your scales, diga. But... but... ummmm..." Her darker face reddens as she glares through the carpet. "You know what we're about to get ourselves into... It'll just be us..."

I sorta shuffle back, sorta glance toward that gray line of storm again. I mean, I know everything she's talking about... I know all that we've gotta do. We've been over it before. It's just how much meaning she's pushed through her words, how much tension the words buildup against each other, how much buildup it'll take before something may or may not explode. There's a... there's a whole lot of things coming for us. Half of me really wants to offer this sarcastic turd of a response, y'know, fun, right? Just another day being Dino. But, I mean, it's really not.

Halfway across the road of the world. That's as far as it can get, isn't it? On these boundaries and in this place, it is pretty far. And then there's my sister—my sister—to think of. I mean, for all we know, she doesn't remember me. That's okay; I'll figure that out when it comes; but if she doesn't remember me, what kinda state is she in? Is she okay? She's not okay, no, that's a stupid question. Not okay. The thought rattles in me, hits my chest like a stone. Not okay.

Smiling awkwardly, I step toward the doors again. Glassy reflections: me, mostly me. I always thought about myself as gray before I discovered who I really am. It was my entire embodiment, for one: it was my color. Hazy, fuzzy, not-to-be-questioned between-the-lines gray. When I stare through my reflection, and I focus really hard on outlines instead of insides, I'm almost full of those clouds again.

Cooper was red—Cooper still is red. Rosie's pink, and I'm sure she always will be. It's not a bad pink, either: gentle and nurturing when it's not pushed so much. That's not a bad backdrop to be in.

And of course, it's more than any sort of one-colored backdrop too. The world. Halfway across the world or fully. It's a lot of people who mostly don't go by one color. Jkonna's red and orange, but she's also this earthy brown, and there's icy blue, too. My dad's more all those cool colors, but like subdued. Raptin's bright but his center's fuzzy. And I think Diggins is... turquoise. But not just turquoise. We're... We're all one, big, happy canvas. And these are our colors. But that's not even the start of it: there's people like Nick Nack and Bea, and then there's Holt and McJunker and freaking Clem, and I'm not sure why he counts but Woolbeard too. And Bullwort isn't just purple: he hid everything behind it.

Feelings and places all carry their own colors. Pieces, pieces to try and fit together. Only the world isn't one small puzzle of Dino who's gone and lost his puzzle pieces: there's tons and tons of puzzles and they're trying to fit, but different puzzles don't always mix, and then pieces go missing: we're all the most hectic jigsaw ever. I'm not sure what happens when pieces are lost, and gaps appear into our lives, but I guess in some places maybe they're filled, but not always every spot.

Shifting behind me. I then remember that there's four people staring at me as I stare out the window and that's not a very good way to treat them. Slowly I move back around... _Mmmh. I think that's interesting. So, like... I can get that. What you're trying to say about... everything. But can I ask what color I am?_

This laugh that I shouldn't let free bubbles up in my throat. _Droplet, you are totally puke green. Just because._ And then she does laugh, because she's Droplet like that.

Quietly she murmurs, _Just what I thought... Just what I thought..._ And she laughs it all off.

Finally I fix my eyes and I put them on the people around me, place them gently upon my best friend. Try at a smile... and leave it there. "Yeah... I understand. I understand." We're seriously putting ourselves into the hands of trouble. We're crossing oceans with only Droplet and maybe, maybe Foster keeping us dry. Mostly dry. Probably not dry at all cuz Droplet constantly gives off her wet sheen. And we're going to be running through towns, and while some of them might have people who know us—who Diggins alerted about, cuz he knows them—there also won't be. It'll be scary at times: for all we know, the ancients are everywhere.

And that's okay. That's all okay. Maybe it's safer here, this is our home, and you know what? I very plainly recognize that. Puzzle pieces are all different... and some of them aren't gonna fit with me; some of these people just might hate me, because of my attitude, because of my vivosaurs. Because they don't know me. And that's all okay... Jkonna will be there; even Raptin will be there. I won't be alone; none of us will. Isn't that a... beautiful thing? What we're getting into, truly, isn't it... a beautiful thing?

I'm scared but I'm ready. We already waved off the others. Rosie's gonna miss me, and Breckan and all those kids are gonna miss me, Saurhead and Nosh had these sad looks in their faces when I told them the news, and I dunno about the other way around but I am going to miss my One True Pairing getting all cute and snuggly—that is, Vivian and Diggins, not to mention her certain two friends. I'm going to miss being here. And that's... going to be okay. It will be.

"So I... I guess we're off." I brave another smile, even though my heart's pounding so fast and so thick and so heavy I'm not sure if I'm even breathing anymore.

Before I can even start another step, my dad gently embraces me. His face is warm, his eyes are warm, but they're also a little sad, but even further there is acceptance. His streaks of white hair that Jkonna so adores fall upon him neatly. I try my best to sear him into my memory. He places the necklace in my hand, knowing I—am—a—man—now and I must put on my necklaces myself. But he offers and Jkonna accepts and she smirks back toward me while I fumble with the little silvery string with the tiny gadget and the little silvery strap. Eventually I figure it out—hissing at Raptin when he tries a step for me. When he glimpses toward my best friend, shyly and smugly smiling beneath her layers of bangs, his own face gently pinks and he looks back.

So I murmur, "Yeah," just quietly, "she reminds me of Duna, too."

But now he's smirking at me. What did I do this time? "I was thinking of your sister, Dino, but I suppose I can see my own in her too." His eyes narrow above the laughter in his face.

Droplet and Pippy and Harei gently elongate themselves as we step into the shadows outdoors. Daddy Doug and Daddy Dynal wave profusely as we turn our backs and head off. Lone can't get any larger so she waddles furiously to keep up with the others. Raptin stares, in golden awe, as Jkonna lifts diamonds of medals sparkling from her pocket, depositing her own friends from within. Bliss lands with a hard _tmp_ and races after her golden friend; Bomba and Morie skitter after Lone; Foster calmly takes his place behind them; and that new one whose name I forgot glares back at me before moving on toward Droplet.

Thick, rolling moans of thunder echo across our path. Loud booms. Heavy, heavy, heavy. Somehow, I get this feeling in my chest that the clouds aren't going away anytime soon. Even if we waited, this is our fate. In this dumb, childish way, I'm even more excited with each crack of light upon the sky. It lights our way, brightens Jkonna's darker features, sizzles over Raptin's darker scales. I'm not sure what it does to me, but when I look up above, I can feel the shards of light in my eyes.

Exciting. It's all so exciting. Mud'll get caught between toes and—and my tail's gonna trip me and—and we'll be sooooo wet! I don't understand why I'm so excited, oh my gosh, this is bad. I'm such a kid. We half walk without running, cuz Jkonna's slow and I know she'll just get tired. We'll pick up some when we get to the waters. Instead of turning so much when we reach the entrance to the Guild Area, we keep straight—Raptin awkwardly glancing back at us with each motion. He has no idea where we are already. Fun. This is so fun. I consider shoving him but only jokingly; Lone nearly does before I almost strangle the life out of her stupid, purple soul.

There's a pink little shop, and a junk area around the bottom, and if I glance through the lukewarm yellow light I can see Holt waving. I make a point of not waving back. Not that he notices. Droplet snickers, Harei squeals, Lone trills happily as she dots around the place. Nodopi—that's the maia—raises those lashes of hers and sniggers toward all three of us. Foster yawns loudly from nearby.

And finally the skies open up and spill over. Inky, cold fingers of fat droplets slither and drop from the clouds above, tears and tears of water slicking us heavily. Raptin hisses between steps like he's never felt rain before and slips on bits of wet grass. Jkonna just laughs, tossing her hair wildly behind, kicking her feet up in the air. I lunge forward and take her hand and we both go together. Raptin, our faithful guardian, slips yet again. To his credit, Lone was by his side that time, so for all I know she could've tripped him.

Steams and streams of water kick through the vegetation. Our steps grow sloppy, our timing ticks off. We trip and smash into each other, but Jkonna's still giggling, just quietly. Harei squeals as she goes tumbling off her feet and lands head-first into a new pond. Her face rises, gloppy and thick with mud. We all steadily begin to smell fresh and yet stale, new and yet old. I trip over Jkonna's hair once or twice, the both of us going down together. She's held back by her tunic but she's strong enough not to care too much. Raptin finally begins to understand the concept of rain; we have to force back snickers because his glare is plain scary.

The sky, slashed open for all to see, its insides an unwanted gift, ribbons of gentle clouds hacked away, rumbles threateningly. Waves and waves of water, cold and hot and gliding, with great aim, hungrily lick for the earth below. Everything's wet and matted beneath; I trip over everything I can get my feet on. _Hold on!_ cries my krona: yet another wave leeches us up past our toes, sending us kicking and sprawling toward her briny back. Raptin, hesitant for a great three seconds, the longest three seconds of our lives, eventually plants himself toward the back. The waves heave, and heave, and lift us off from the earth. I shove my head into Jkonna's shoulder and she tries her best to find grip in slippery rows of fins. I'm not quite sure how he manages, but our faithful guardian plays his role well by this point.

The other vivosaurs, most tall and lumbering as it is, don't need too much effort: only Lone and Bomba and Morie have to skitter off for cover on top of someone else. For a heartrending second, the little, fiery, feathered u-raptor flings off from the ground; half-drowned, she nearly slips away until a thick, pink paw forces her on. Although Nodopi's eyes cross, upset with the weather, she lumbers onward. Foster manages to get one of them on him since his skin's so dry he can't hold the water.

It's only then that I realize someone is missing. Someone very, very important has gone missing. The largest one in our group managed to—

 _Dino!_ Droplet. I swerve past a forest of red hair to see her. _I know! I know, I know, I know! I can't tell why, or how, o-or anything, but yes! He's gone!_

My heart drains. I splutter.

 _WH-WHAT?_

Wincing. _If he's gone... I mean..._ There has to be a reason. He's a klutz b-but... he's huge... he's huge... he can't... he can't... I try to breathe for a bit there. Just wrap my head around, accept the fact that Pippy's... not here anymore. I feel him in my heart, so he's not gone, his bond is straining me, he's not gone. Not... totally gone.

A sigh. _Sorry, Droplet... I just..._

 _It's fine. It's fine._ Oh. Right. She's in love with him. _Yeah, thanks for making that clear._

Even as the tears of the earth burn into my cheeks, down my spine, every little bit it might just leech into, I realize... that I'm not crying. I'm... I'm not crying. I'm—sure, yes, I'm upset, my heart throbs, my head pangs: but I'm not crying. The sky is howling, sobbing, screeching for loss all around me, and here I am. Sitting. Wet and cold, sitting. But I'm fine... I'm fine...

I whisper this to myself, even though everyone else must be able to hear me.

When the words reach my lips, already Droplet smiles a little endearing grin from her slender snout. Harei scoots toward me, a spluttering Morie on her twitching spine, just so that she can offer me a smile too. Jkonna mumbles congratulations as softly as she can; Raptin just gives me this look when I glance back at him. I think he's trying to show pride, too. Because I'm not crying—I'm not crying anymore. This pain that once etched across me, the constant falling into darkness, the constant letting of the curtains: finally I can open them again, and I tie them, and I leave them that way. A salty breath of the sea lurching ahead puffs through my lungs, and again, still, I'm not crying. It's okay. It really will be...

As the storm shrieks above us, I close my eyes, cup my hands around my ears, and try my very, very hardest to imagine what she looks like now. Did her hair get lighter or darker, or is it still the same? How long is it? I feel like she's the kinda girl to keep it long, but not too long: not Jkonna long. It's gotta be somewhere past her shoulders, though, a bit far past. Maybe she doesn't have bangs... like Dad... but would that do her forehead any favors? Is her face shaped like mine where without bangs it wouldn't be okay? Are her eyes... still... that same pure, sweet amethyst? How tall is she? Is she still really small or is there a bit or weight on her like Mom was? Have _her_ wings started? Oh how I wish I knew... but it only makes me more excited for the moment coming, when I see her again. How happy I'll be once that time arrives.

So slight I almost don't feel it, the weight of two heavy creatures falls out of my head and ekes into the sobbing around us. Heavy, hefty paws weight them; regal gazes swerve about the horizon. Thomas asks why the world got so sad; Iggy guesses that it's his fault but Thomas doesn't think so. Thomas tells him thanks for letting them go out and Iggy grumbles that maybe he's a fire creature but he's not like those modern ones that can't take the rain.

They smile toward a horizon that must be unfurled as we take that dip into the sea. I stumble in place; Jkonna cries, and then she goes, "Wheeeeee!" even as I look back and Raptin's face has gone stark pale, a chalky blue all that colors him.

Here's to our new beginning; here's to a world that brightens all around us.

I'm so excited.

 **;;;w;;; and there it was.**

 **But I'm not too upset. (honestly I'm so ready for the next stuff I write that's not in this universe I AM DONE WITH YOU JKONNA HAAA) I mean, there's still the next story... xD I can't leave after this, no way! I've still got an entire story in Rupert's POV, just like Jkonna, of course. And he still has four vivosaurs we've only seen none of the time, excluding Mistress because Mistress. And only four! I mean, Jkonna has five now; don't you think he'll get a fifth too? Heh. Maybe.**

 **Ummm... if you've actually read this far, um, thank you very much... The final story (yes, the final! Finally!) will continue on after I write a couple other things, so... it should be starting around mid- to late summer, so that's... something to look forward to? X3**

 **Thank yoouu!**


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